Echoes in the Fog
by BolshevikMuppet99
Summary: Our choices define us. When Harry and his closest friends are transported to an alternate dimension, thirty years after the war's end, and forced to face the results of what would have been if only they had chosen differently, he will discover just how true this is. Features H/G, H/Hr, H/DG. Not multi.
1. Chapter 1--A Tale of Three Worlds

**AN: I OWN NOTHING.**

 **THIS STORY WILL TAKE PLACE IN THE WORLD OF MY SERIES: THE DOWNWARD SPIRAL SAGA, AND WILL CONTAIN CHARACTERS AND INFO FROM THAT SERIES AS WELL AS FROM MY STORY: FOR LACK OF A BEZOAR. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE OTHERS YOU'LL BE ABLE TO FOLLOW, BUT YOU CERTAINLY WON'T BE PICKING UP AS MUCH OR UNDERSTANDING AS WELL AS IF YOU HAD.**

 **I PLAN ON UPDATING ONCE A WEEK/EVERY TWO WEEKS.**

 **THE CONTENT WARNINGS FROM THE DOWNWARD SPIRAL SAGA AND FOR LACK OF A BEZOAR APPLY HERE AS WELL.**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

CHAPTER 1–A tale of three worlds

"If a coin comes down heads, that means that the possibility of its coming down tails has collapsed. Until that moment the two possibilities were equal.

But on another world, it does come down tails. And when that happens, the two worlds split apart."—Philip Pullman-The Golden Compass

* * *

There are many worlds, the theory goes.

An infinite number of them, filling the empty expanse of space like water in a bucket.

As far away as the opposite end of the universe, as close as the other side of a shadow.

These worlds are created, the theory continues, whenever a choice is made.

Whenever someone, or indeed, something, makes a choice, they _create_ a world wherein they chose differently.

Some of these worlds will only have the most minor differences. Some will be starkly different.

Theoretically, it should be possible to travel from one world to another.

The theories are correct.

The chances of inter-dimensional travel occurring are minute. Minuscule.

So unlikely that it is the next best thing to impossible.

But when dealing with an infinite number of worlds, something which is merely _almost_ impossible is as good as certain.

In a vast number of worlds, there exists an artefact that could, under the right conditions, lead to inter-dimension travel.

In many worlds, this artefact was discovered. In some, it was left where it was found. In some, it was destroyed. In some, it was studied.

In most of the worlds, its true purpose was never discovered.

But in some, it was.

Interestingly enough, in every world that this artefact existed, it could be found in the same location.

* * *

In one world, approaching evening on the first of May, 2028, the English Department of Mysteries was finishing their daily experiments with the artefact.

For all that they had tested and prodded it, they'd made no progress with it over the previous three months.

They were experimenting with it simply because they could. Because it could further their knowledge and understanding.

Because it could help them better relate to the miraculous world they inhabited.

* * *

In another world, approaching evening on the first of May, 2028, the English Department of Mysteries was finishing their daily experiments with the artefact.

For all that they had tested and prodded it, they'd made no progress with it over the previous three months.

They were experimenting with it because they were afraid. They understood the implications of the existence of this artefact, and were afraid that someone would use it for military purposes.

And after the war they had been through, they wanted to be sure that they had no one to fear.

* * *

And in a third world, approaching evening on the first of May, 2028, Chief Unspeakable Augustus Rookwood entered the Department of Mysteries to begin his experimentation with the artefact.

He'd been experimenting with it for three months and believed he was finally making progress.

He had subjected the artefact to a full gamut of tests, ranging from simple spells to complex rituals.

And while he had gained the greatest understanding of the artefact out of all of the worlds, he had not yet managed to activate it.

He was spending so much time experimenting with it because that was what the Emperor desired.

It was this same desire that had driven the Emperor to begin a space exploration program, to begin terraforming the moon.

It was a desire driven by desperate fear and urgent need.

A desire, in fact, driven by the one thought that itched at the Emperor's mangled soul.

The thought that there could exist, somewhere in any reality, a place where His rule was not known.

A place where the name Lord Voldemort was not uttered in a fearful whisper.

* * *

In one world, Harry Potter won.

The fight against Voldemort had not been an easy one. Many friends had been lost.

Still, he had been victorious.

After the war, he joined the Auror corps. He quickly rose through the ranks, becoming, at age forty, the youngest Chief Auror in history.

He married Ginny Weasley, and together they had three wonderful children.

He fought the good fight, working on a daily basis to make the world a better place, to bring peace, to prevent any would-be Dark Wizard or Witch from threatening the happiness that Wizarding Britain had dug from the ashes.

And he was happy.

* * *

In another world, Harry Potter won.

The fight against Voldemort had not been an easy one. Many, many friends had died. No matter how much time passed, he would never be able to remove the spectre of Ron Weasley dying on Slughorn's floor from his mind.

But he and Hermione had fought, using the Death Eaters' own tactics against them.

By the time they won, the Death Eaters were as afraid of the pair as ever they had been of Voldemort.

They paved the road with blood and bodies, and in the end, they were victorious.

After the war, he joined the Auror corps. He was quickly transferred to a newly created task force, one under the authority of the Unspeakables.

During Voldemort's first and second rises, the Aurors and Hit-Wizards had often found their hands tied, unable to act due to legal restrictions and requirements for due process.

Once Voldemort was finally eradicated, it was decided to create a group that would be able to operate outside the law to an extent. A group of highly trained fighters. A group that would be able to prevent possible threats from becoming definite dangers.

Harry Potter proved to be a highly successful operative, and by the age of forty, he was heading the group.

He married Hermione Granger, and together, they had two wonderful children.

And he was content.

* * *

And in a third world, Harry Potter won.

The road to victory had not been an easy one. He had lost friends, been forced to kill people he loved.

But in the end, Lord Voldemort was victorious, and Harry Potter, His protégé, was named His second-in-command.

After the war, Harry was made the head of Lord Voldemort's secret police force, the Death Eaters.

He was highly successful in this job, striking fear into the hearts of would-be rebels across the entire empire.

He married Daphne Greengrass, and together they had five children, each of whom were taken aside on their fifteenth birthday, sworn to secrecy, and told of the path to immortality.

He was undoubtedly the second most feared and respected person in the Empire. People were almost as terrified of his name as they were of the Emperor's.

And he was exultant.

* * *

Choices, choices, choices. Everything we do is a choice. We choose with every second of our lives.

In one world, when Harry Potter ran with a Bezoar to Ron Weasley's prone form, he chose to look at the floor, to watch where his feet landed.

He did not trip. He reached Ron in time to save his life.

In one world, the Dursleys were unwilling to accept Harry into their home. The danger of having him living there, their worries about their standing in the neighbourhood, their fears of the effects on Dudley; all these concerns outweighed the familial bond.

Choices, choices, choices.

And so rarely must we face the consequences of our choices. So rarely must we look at what could have been, if only we had chosen differently.

So rarely, when we imagine what could have been, do we think accurately.

* * *

In one world, Chief Unspeakable Hermione Weasley left the Department of Mysteries at six P.M. on the first of May.

She took the artefact along with her, stringing it around her neck.

Due to the upcoming Memorial Day, she, along with the rest of the Department, was given three days off work.

Her husband, however, only had two days off.

She figured she would use her extra private time well, examining the artefact without a press of excited Unspeakables around her.

So she chose to take it with her.

* * *

In another world, Chief Unspeakable Hermione Potter left the Department of Mysteries at six P.M. on the first of May.

She took the artefact along with her, stringing it around her neck.

She and her husband made a point of spending an evening with the Headmaster of Hogwarts at least once per month.

They had planned it to be that very night, and she thought he might be able to shed some light on the artefact; never mind the possible input from the portraits of previous headmasters.

Though he was no master of Runelore, (and indeed, the artefact was covered in runes, blending in with one another in a dazzling display that left the eyes feeling tired and confused,) she knew no one who had as strong a grasp on the Dark Arts as did Severus Snape.

And perhaps, some of his knowledge would prove helpful to unlock the artefact's mysteries.

So she chose to take it with her.

* * *

And in a third world, Chief Unspeakable Augustus Rookwood entered the Department of Mysteries at six P.M. on the first of May.

He had not been named Chief Unspeakable simply as a reward for his loyal service to the Dark Lord.

He was named Chief Unspeakable because he was truly interested in solving the riddles that pervaded reality. More, he was driven by this need. He was intelligent, talented, and knowledgeable.

And he was blessed with a total lack of moral or ethical compunctions.

So he entered the Department of Mysteries to continue his testing.

From the little he had gleaned of the runes, he believed that they would be activated by a blood sacrifice.

And so he chose to take with him a muggle child, fresh from the slave markets.

* * *

"Can you believe it's really been thirty years?" Ron asked, leaning back in his recliner.

Harry shook his head, dislodging Ginny off of his shoulder slightly as he raised his butterbeer.

They were sitting in the lounge of Ron and Hermione's apartment; a modest three bedroom located in the heart of London.

They'd had a nice enough dinner, albeit full of reminiscing and nostalgia. Full of the unspoken memories of this night, thirty years past.

Harry had a few strands of grey in his hair, but he was the only one. He did have a stressful job, after all.

But it kept him fit. He was in better physical shape than he had been even in his school years, his arms and legs thickened with muscles.

It wouldn't do for the Chief Auror to be unable to keep up in a fight, no matter how infrequently they came these days.

There hadn't been a real threat in wizarding Britain for a good few years. Even the last one was more a wannabe Dark Wizard and less of a true Voldemort copycat.

Still, Harry's paranoia had been forged in the war and had only been strengthened in the first few years after it. Those years had been bad, with panicked leftover Death Eaters causing whatever havoc they could as if trying to avenge their entire broken dream.

Once the last of them had been rounded up and the first few copycats dealt with, life fell into a far smoother rhythm.

But Harry still kept himself in fighting shape, and still made sure that his family knew how to defend themselves and kept themselves able as well.

Paranoia, maybe. Scars from a war, definitely.

Ginny still looked like she was in her thirties, none of the stresses of three childbirths and a fifteen year Quidditch career showing on her face.

She'd retired from Quidditch only a few years previously after a bludger had left her left hand unable to grip as tightly as it had before. She'd been a Chaser, and a damn good one, but she needed to at least be able to use her right for throwing the Quaffle while her left hand guided the broom. She'd preferred leaving the game while she was still a star over sinking into dull mediocrity.

Harry drained his bottle and put it down, beginning to speak with slight hoarseness and a shudder in his voice.

"God, remember when that voice just came from everywhere. And then Pansy, when she tried to turn me over."

They fell back into a comfortable silence.

After a few minutes, he pushed himself off the couch and made his way to the kitchen to fetch another beer.

It was a comfortable enough apartment.

Ron had stayed in the Auror corps for almost six months before he first saw action. And after he did, he'd decided that he didn't want to anymore.

("Seen enough fighting for more than a lifetime." He'd confided in Harry that same day, before handing in his resignation.)

George had been more than happy to accept him into the store.

They'd made a great team. Over the next thirty or so years, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes expanded, opening another five branches; in Hogsmeade, Paris, Madrid, New York, and São Paulo.

Between Ron's hefty paycheck, and Hermione's earnings from the Department of Mysteries, they could have afforded a mansion anywhere in Britain.

But Hermione had been concerned about wealth going to their kids' heads. Afraid of them growing up thinking that they deserved whatever they wanted.

So they'd ended up living in a flat in London, near enough to both of their works, and close to Hermione's parents.

Ron did manage to convince her to add some charms to their apartment.

For example, Harry was certain none of the other flats in that building had an Olympic-sized swimming pool inside. Or a library that was almost as large as the rest of the flat.

He walked back into the lounge, swinging the bottle between his fingers.

Ron was rubbing his head, a habit he'd picked up since his hairline had started receding.

Harry had to smile, seeing him sitting like that. He was looking more and more like Arthur every day, especially with the extra weight he'd put on.

Hermione—well, she didn't really look any different to how she had at twenty. A few more lines on her face, her skin a little less tanned from copious amounts of time spent indoors. But otherwise, not really different.

"Who else is speaking tomorrow?" Ron asked.

"Don't remind me about that," Harry grumbled, settling back into the couch. "Managed to avoid the ten and twenty year anniversaries, but just can't get out of this one."

"You'll be fine, love," Ginny said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

"Besides me, there's McGonagall, Kingsley, and the Head Boy and Girl."

"Who are they this year? I feel like, without any of kids there I don't know any of the Hogwarts news."

"I know what you mean," Ginny said, nodding at Hermione, "it's strange, isn't it?"

"Very."

"Well, apparently this year, it's Colin Creevy. You know, Dennis' son. And Meghan McGuire. I met her parents once. Nice people."

They sat in silence again, sipping at their drinks without words for a few minutes until Ginny asked, nodding at Hermione again "New necklace?"

Hermione fingered the small golden chain, answering hesitantly.

"Ah, not quite. It's uh, a work project."

"And you just snuck it out?"

"I figured since the Department's going to be closed, I might as well use some of the time to try to study it," she said, a blush beginning to creep up her cheeks, "and I thought I'd ask Flitwick his opinion on it."

"Can you do that?" Harry asked curiously.

"When we have no idea how something works we can." She grumbled, pulling at the chain.

And revealing the pendant hanging from it.

They all craned their heads to look, Ron going so far as to lean forward in his recliner to get a better view.

It was a strange thing, made of some silvery metal, glittering and gleaming in the light.

It was shaped like an infinity symbol, a sideways figure eight.

And it was absolutely covered in runes.

They flashed, changing and melding with one another, moving with dizzying speed through strange shapes that almost hurt the eye to look at.

"They don't stop changing," Hermione said, sounding hushed and almost reverent. "And we don't recognize half of these symbols. And they seem to move faster the more people that look at it."

"And you don't know what if does?" Harry asked, not looking away from the dazzling display, his own voice much softer than usual.

"We know what it's meant to do, we think. We just don't know how to make it work."

"What's it meant to do?" Ron asked.

"You know I can't tell you that," Hermione said chidingly.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it's meant to be more than just a pretty ornament," Ginny said, her hand held before her as if she wanted to do nothing more than touch it.

"Yes. Just a pity that it seems like we'll never figure it out. This thing is so far beyond us it's scary."

They sat there for a few minutes, staring at it in silence, none of them saying a word.

They sat in silence, at least, until the runes all lit up, and they all exclaimed as one.

* * *

Snape hadn't changed the Headmaster's office much, during his tenure.

Fawkes' perch wasn't present, but the office was otherwise barely distinguishable from how it had been when it was Dumbledore's. But Snape had imposed some of his personality on the office where he now spent much of his time.

There were three cauldrons, bubbling happily along in the corner of the room, throwing up strangely coloured sparks.

Next to them stood a locked cabinet, filled, Harry knew, with rare and hard-to-find potions ingredients.

And the bookshelves were dotted with extremely Dark and dangerous tomes, the type of books even Durmstrang did not keep.

Still, the room felt warm and comfortable. Snape certainly had mellowed, over the years since Voldemort's fall.

To be fair, his teaching situation probably helped.

McGonagall had bullied him into keeping the position of Headmaster.

("A punishment," he'd once remarked to Harry, "for letting her think I truly was a traitor.")

However, he did have a desire to teach. And yet, as years of students could attest, he seemed to hate it.

The solution, therefore, was for him to create two new classes, both taught by him.

Only for seventh years who had received O's in the subjects, Snape taught a highly advanced version of Defence Against the Dark Arts, for students who would want to become Aurors or the like, and an advanced version of Potions, focusing mainly on adapting old potions and inventing new ones.

The classes were very small, having a maximum of three or four students a year, and were incredibly successful.

Every Auror, Hit-Wizard, and member of Harry's squad who had joined over the previous fifteen years was a graduate of Snape's Defence class. And apparently, his graduates were making as much of a splash in the Potions' world too.

And he'd become a slightly less caustic person.

"So, we got a letter from James today."

Snape raised an eyebrow, slowly putting his mug down.

"Oh? And what does he have to say?"

"Shouldn't you know?" Harry asked.

"We all know you only gave me that title to annoy me."

"Maybe," Harry said with a shrug, "still, you've been a good enough godfather. For some reason, he actually seems to like you."

Snape heaved a great sigh, ignoring Dumbledore's portrait's chuckling behind him.

"Yes, after you saddled him with such a ridiculous name, I realized it was up to me to actually look after the boy."

"It's not ridiculous at all," Hermione said indignantly, "a lot of people have three names."

"James Ronald Remus. Twenty years on, and I still can't get over that."

"I think Tolkien would have appreciated it, actually, a real wizard having his initials." She said primly, sipping at her own tea.

"Regardless, you gave him an absurd name and an absurd godfather. It's a miracle he never decided to simply kill himself and be done with it."

"Are we talking about him or you?"

Snape bowed his head an inch, conceding.

"Well? What did he have to say? He told me he was going to be having an interview, but nothing since then."

"He got the job," Hermione said, pride filling her voice, "As of next year, he'll be the assistant Defence Professor at Ilvermoney. And he said they hinted that if it goes well, he'll get the full position whenever Margo finally chooses to retire."

Snape nodded as if it was nothing special, but a small smile pulled at his lips.

"Well done," he said softly, "I'm sure you must be proud."

"We are. And not just that he's got it. He's making his own name. He said they tested him like mad, made him show off some of his duelling skills. He didn't get it because of us."

Snape smiled truly then, his gimlet eyes showing a hint of happiness.

"No. He deserves it. And your daughter? What news from her?"

Harry sighed.

Lily was a great girl. Sweet, bright, lovely. The best daughter he could possibly ask for.

If only she was a bit more focused.

She'd finished school the year before, and had taken a year off to travel, sending pictures from all over Europe, Africa, and Asia. He thought it was great.

He just wished she'd gone with someone other than her boyfriend.

Jason was a good enough boy. But a part of Harry would never be able to trust any boy with his daughter.

"She's having a fantastic time. They should be leaving Australia tomorrow, they're heading to America. They'll be there a month, joining James at some point, and then they'll all come home."

Snape nodded absently as Hermione finished.

"Does she know what career she plans on embarking upon yet?"

Harry shook his head while Hermione answered.

"Nope. Six months ago she was talking about joining a menagerie, then three months ago she mentioned she might like to be an Auror. Now she's thinking of joining one of the film crews. Or becoming a musician."

"The film crews," Snape said blankly. "Really?"

"They're actually not so bad. We went to one the other night. You know, they're mixing up some of the Pensieve magic with the muggle technology, and it's really immersive."

"Not all of us have the time to simply do whatever we wish. You might want to remind your daughter that the average witch or wizard has to actually earn a living."

Harry just smirked, not rising to the barb.

"Whatever she does, I'm sure she'll do it well. Unless she's inherited too much from her father."

"I don't know," Hermione said, smiling at Harry, "Harry's done pretty damn well."

Snape rolled his eyes.

"Anyways, Severus. I'd like you to have a look at this, please." Hermione said, pulling a little pendant on a chain out of her shirt and putting it on the desk.

Snape leaned forward, the silvery glow of the flashing symbols dancing in his eyes.

"Interesting. Tell me, what's in it for me?"

"You get to help us solve a mystery. Everyone knows you love that."

"That I do," Snape said, still not moving his eyes from the pendant, "and yet, it's not enough. Lend me the book, and I'll tell you whatever I can."

"Severus-"

"Cease your idiocy. It's the only one of its kind, and no one's using it at the moment. Lend it to me for one week. I'll even allow you to borrow one of Dumbledore's books."

"I should never have told you about it."

"No, you shouldn't have. Do we have a deal?"

"Fine."

"Excellent. Do you feel it? From this...thing? Almost as if it's hungry?"

Hermione nodded.

"That's why I brought it to you. Those of us who've had the most interactions with Dark magic can feel it more than others."

"Yes," Snape whispered, entranced. "But it's not purely Dark. But terrible deeds went into the creation of this."

Snape took out his wand and began to tap the pendant, whispering in a strange, sibilant tongue.

"Sir?" Hermione called hesitantly, looking at Dumbledore's portrait. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?"

"I don't believe I have," Dumbledore said, a small frown creasing his brows. "Nor heard of its like. The Runes don't stop changing? At all? No pattern to them?"

"Not really. But there's one or two that keep repeating themselves, the symbols for-"

"Blood," Snape interjected, his whisper cutting through the conversation.

"Exactly," Hermione said with a nod.

"Mrs. Potter. What exactly does this object do?"

Dumbledore sounded worried. Harry and Hermione both looked up at him.

"You know the Department's rules, sir. We can't talk about our jobs. Even when getting outside assistance."

"That may be," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard, "but how certain are you that it's safe?"

"From what we understand," Harry said, "or at least, as much as I can understand from what they've told me, it certainly won't be an accidental danger."

"He's right," Hermione added. "The only problem could be if it activates, and that definitely can't happen in this situation. This isn't the whole artefact, you see."

Dumbledore leaned back on his painted chair, looking relieved. And curious.

"Not the whole thing?" Snape asked sharply, looking up from his examinations.

"No. And the rest of it will not be removed from the Department, so don't even ask. But, according to the little writing found with it, this is the main part. But it still needs both to activate. We're just trying to discover as much as we can about this part, for now."

"I'm surprised that you know so much about this, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You're not part of the research team, are you?"

"Still not," Harry answered with a grin, "but I do have top-level security clearance, so I at least get to know what my wife's busy with all day."

Dumbledore kept his piercing gaze trained on Harry, while Hermione and Snape started talking again, throwing out deeply advanced terms.

"Are you happy, Harry?" Dumbledore asked softly. "With your task force? With the things you've been forced to do?"

"It's important. If we existed years ago, Voldemort would never have risen. And fine, most of the people we deal with aren't on his level, but there have been one or two."

Dumbledore nodded, looking as old as he had at the end of his life.

"Indeed. And the innocents caught in the crossfire?"

Harry smiled bitterly. "It was you who taught me about that. Some things are secondary."

"I'm going to attempt some Blood Magic," Snape said to Hermione. "You are certain it won't cause...whatever this thing does?"

"I'm sure," Hermione said, "we've done a bit of that ourselves."

"So why am I even bothering?"

"Because you can understand what happens far better than any of us. Happy now?"

"Overjoyed."

Harry turned to watch, as a silver knife flew to Snape from his Potions Kit.

Snape drew the blade across his palm, dropping the knife and picking his wand up again as soon as blood began to drip out.

His wand flashed, and as the blood dripped onto the pendant it seemed to gain a silvery penumbra around it, a ghostly light hiding just beyond the edge of sight.

Snape's blood coated the runes, and they gleamed a bright red for a few moments.

Before the blood sunk into them, disappearing as if swallowed.

The runes shone, glowing strongly for a little before the light faded away.

Snape sat there, his bloody hand hovering just above the artefact's surface, shivering as if in the grips of ecstasy.

"It wants more," he whispered. "A true sacrifice. That's what you would need to activate it. The death of an innocent, their lifeblood spilled onto it."

Hermione nodded grimly.

"We half suspected that. Thank you for the confirmation. It seems we won't be using this, after all."

"I should hope not," Snape said, waving his wand over his palm and healing the cut. "After all your prattle of building a more ethical society, I would hate for you to be proven such a hypocrite."

"Well, you don't need to worry about that, I can promise you-"

She cut off in the middle of her sentence, eyes widening.

The runes had stopped changing shape, and all of them lit up, throwing a dark light across the room.

* * *

"The time is now nine fifteen P.M., and I am finishing up the final preparations before performing the sacrifice."

As Rookwood spoke, his dictaquill raced across the parchment on its own accord, marking his words down.

He absently shifted his goggles, the thick lenses not showing his eyes, before he continued.

"I am wearing full safety garb. Not taking any risks now. If the device activates, I will immediately make use of my portkey. Now. Subject has been washed clean of any enchantments and has been bound and gagged for the last twelve hours. Hopefully, there are no potions still in its system, but Gruffin's elixir should have taken care of that."

Behind him, the muggle boy in question thrashed on the floor, its screams coming out muffled.

They were in one of the most dangerous and most secure rooms in the Department of Mysteries.

Those who spent any length of time in this room had learned to ignore the mirrors coating the walls, roof, and floor.

They certainly did not look in them, nor gaze at the reflections that showed other places.

The images in the mirrors were always blurred and unclear, but there were always rumours.

Some of the Unspeakables whispered that if you stared into one of them for too long, something else would look back.

Rookwood stood before a marble desk, wearing so many layers atop his robes that he looked, from a distance, like a bear.

He kept his eyes trained on the object on the desk.

A strange pedestal, shaped perfectly so that it fit the holes of the device placed upon it.

"As previously recorded, the runes shift faster before an experiment. As if it knows what we are about to do. The runes are changing now, and I have never seen them move so quickly before. There is a feeling of...anticipation. I have said it before, and I will say it again. I believe the device has some strange form of sentience."

He turned quickly, and pulled the shaking child off of the floor, gripping it sharply by the arm, pushing it forward so that it was bent over the marble desk.

"Subject is almost in position, and the runes are shifting even faster. They seem to be glowing slightly."

His voice caught in his throat for a second, and he coughed, shaking his head, clearing the images from his mind.

"Subject is approximately eight years old, male. Muggle, of course. Obtained from Selwyn's store. Selwyn swore it was never used sexually, and tests seem to have confirmed that. It is as innocent as a muggle can be. I will be using a standard silver knife, washed in Gruffin's elixir and cleansed of all enchantments. There should be no magical interference, except perhaps the ambient magic of the Mirror Hall itself."

The muggle tried to kick out at him.

He twisted his own leg around it, pulling the back of its knee and slamming its chest down onto the table.

He pulled it forward until its head was right above the pedestal.

The runes were flashing even faster, a hypnotizing display that called to be fed.

"It is now nine twenty-one," he said, picking up the knife and pulling the muggle's head back, baring its throat. "And I am about to perform the sacrifice."

With a smooth, practiced motion, he slit the muggle's throat.

The knife cut well, slicing through veins, arteries, and flesh as if they were butter.

Blood shot out in a great spurt. He ignored the muggle's shaking, angling its body so that the blood would coat the device.

And it did.

"As before, the blood is sinking into the runes, not pooling above. But-"

He broke off, heart beginning to race.

"The pedestal. It seems to be glowing red. As if the blood is somehow filling it up. Preposterous, but it is. And the runes-the runes have stopped shifting! They're not changing, and they're still taking in the blood!"

The muggle's blood was coming slower, beginning to simply drip out. It had long since ceased its struggling.

It looked so beautiful, the device finally seeming as if it was actually doing something. So beautiful, so happy to be used.

The wonderful colours, no longer changing. The runes, finally making sense to him.

He felt a kinship to this thing before him, this utterly alien intelligence.

Had he really wondered if it was sentient? Of course, it was. It was undeniable.

His arm felt stiff.

He tore his eyes away from the device, and saw the muggle, no longer bleeding at all.

How long had he been standing there, staring at the device?

"It-the runes, they're glowing far brighter than I've ever seen before. Each of them a different colour, fading into one another. It is-a beautiful sight. Absolutely wondrous. And it-it feels-"

Something changed. The entire pedestal began to shake, and as one the runes all shined brightly, blinding him for a moment.

Before his vision even cleared he had grabbed hold of the portkey in his pocket, letting go of the body and letting it fall to the mirrored floor.

Just before saying the activation word, he took one last look.

"The runes-they've stopped glowing so brightly. But something is different. They're not changing anymore, and the pedestal is still glowing red. And the device feels-it feels satisfied."

Something niggled at him.

It took him a few seconds of looking around before he realized what it was, and when he did he gasped.

"The-the mirrors. The mirrors. They're reflecting this room. They're reflecting this room. What-what happened? Something happened, the device must have activated, but I wasn't transported."

He shook his head, clearing it.

"I-I will continue my examinations of the device tomorrow, with a full team. And with even greater safety precautions. Something just happened, I'm certain of it. Whatever it did, it will change the world as we know it."

He glanced at the clock and his jaw fell slack.

Had he really been standing there for over two hours?

"It is-it is now eleven thirty-four P.M. Augustus Rookwood, signing out."

* * *

They stared at Hermione's pendant as it glowed and shook.

Harry was sure he should do something but had no idea what.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, sounding terrified, "what the hell?"

"I don't know," she said, backing away. "It can't-it needs another piece to do anything! And we don't know how to activate it! It can't activate!"

"Hermione-"Ginny began.

And cut off, as a beam of light shot out of the pendant and stabbed Harry in the chest.

He looked down, completely baffled. It didn't hurt, it just felt a little warm.

"Harry," Hermione said, sounding worried and drawing her wand, "just stay calm, ok? Please, just-"

Three beams of light shot out of him, stabbing Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all through the chests.

The pendant shook violently, and the whole building trembled.

And they were gone.

* * *

"Hermione, what the fuck!"

She sat in the same position, staring with wide eyes and a pale face.

"It can't," she whispered, "It can't do anything!"

"It seems to be doing something anyway," Snape said, drawing his wand, "what is this artefact's purpose?"

"I can't-"

"You need to tell me!" he growled.

"It's meant to-"

She cut off as a beam of light shot out of the artefact, stabbing Harry through the chest.

"Hermione?" he said, heart racing, "it's activating. What do we do?"

She drew her wand, and he slowly moved his hand toward his holster.

"On the count of three," she said, setting her jaw, "We-"

Two jets of light shot out of Harry, stabbing Hermione and Snape through their chests.

All the portraits shouted, the artefact shook, and Hogwarts itself seemed to tremble.

And they were gone.

* * *

And in a different world, a bombed out, ruined building in a destroyed neighbourhood of what had once been muggle London shook, throwing dust and debris out into the street.

And in the wreck of an apartment, four people appeared.

A few seconds later, another three appeared, falling into a clump beside the first group.

As Augustus Rookwood had remarked: something happened, and it would change the world.

 **AS ALWAYS: REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW.**


	2. Chapter 2--Elsewhere

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Chapter 2–Elsewhere

"You can't say 'if this didn't happen then that would have happened' because you don't know everything that might have happened. You might think something'd be good, but for all you know it could have turned out horrible. You can't say 'If only I'd…' because you could be wishing for anything."- Terry Pratchett—Lords and Ladies

* * *

 _2 May 2028  
_

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

"So, Blaise. What's up?"

Blaise sat opposite him, looking nervous. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be good.

Blaise had wanted to meet with him yesterday, but he'd been unavailable. For nearly fifteen years now, Harry had been teaching at Hogwarts. Only once a week, and only during the last term, but it was enough to teach what he had to. Especially since no one dared misbehave or disrupt his lessons.

He taught the seventh years who were interested in joining the armed forces, showing them methods of counter-terrorism and interrogation.

It was certainly successful. Standards had risen, and the military, police force, and Death Eaters were a powerful force to be reckoned with.

It did mean, however, that one day a week he wasn't at headquarters unless it was for an emergency.

"Come on, Blaise," he repeated, softening his voice, "what's going on?"

"There was a fuck-up. The prisoner, the rebel guy. He's dead."

Harry stilled, his glowing red eyes locking onto Blaise.

"Say that again. Tell me again. How the one guy from this group that we've managed to capture alive in thirty fucking years is dead. How the fuck could you let that happen?!"

Blaise flinched and looked down, terrified.

' _As he should be.'_ Harry thought viciously.

There had barely been any real rebel groups since Africa had joined the Empire.

Mostly, there had been bands of malcontents, focused on trying to free muggle slaves, trying to spread unsavoury literature, and trying to make people unhappy with the Emperor.

They were untrained, useless in a fight, terrible at subterfuge, and no real threat.

Mostly.

There was one group, though. They weren't a constant hassle, preferring to pop up every few years, cause a few attacks, and disappear till next they rose.

Harry suspected that they were led by the last surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix, and perhaps some former Aurors. They had training, dedication, and had once even managed to break a few prisoners out of Azkaban.

Oh, their actions brought extreme reprisals, and the average wizard probably hated them for that. And though they had accomplished a few victories, on a whole, they did nothing of substance.

But still; having anyone resisting the Emperor couldn't possibly lead to anything good.

Over the last few weeks, since the Emperor had gone off-world, they had been absolutely brazen.

Five attacks in as many weeks, focusing on detention centres and military compounds.

Something positive had come out of it at least.

The Death Eaters had managed to capture one of their operatives, a wizard later identified as Martin Gilfried. They'd managed to get him in the nick of time, stopping him from poisoning himself just before it was too late.

In thirty years, he was the only one they'd managed to get alive. These rebels were completely dedicated to death before capture, preferring to kill themselves rather than being forced to give information.

And now this.

"Explain," Harry said, voice cold and hard, no sympathy evident.

Blaise may have been one of his oldest and closest friends, but right then he was nothing more than a subordinate, one who had apparently royally screwed up.

"He'd taken an Unbreakable Vow. We knew it, and were skating around certain topics, right? But one of the interrogators pushed him to answer the wrong question, and he did. Then he died," Blaise said, raising his hand when Harry opened his mouth, "I've already been investigating it. It was just a stupid mistake." he shrugged, swallowing thickly.

"Tell me you got something from him first," Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And tell me that the idiot who did this has been punished."

"In the stocks already. We're going to use him to demonstrate proper investigative techniques. I want to get a few muggles as well, make a thing out of it."

Harry nodded, motioning for Blaise to continue.

He did so, paling a little.

"As for what we got from him...it's big, Harry. Big stuff."

"Go on."

"You were right. It's the Order and ex-Auror leftovers leading and training them. We only managed to get a few of their names, all people we already suspected. About a hundred of them in Europe, probably the same amount in Africa, sixty or seventy in the Americas."

"Where in Europe? They're in Britain, aren't they?"

Blaise nodded. "Yeah. But under a Fidelius. And all we got about the Secret Keeper is that it's a witch."

"Fuck!" Harry growled, slamming his fist into the desk. "Fuck! We need more!"

"Oh, there's more all right," Blaise said, an ugly look creeping across his face. "They've got a spy."

A chill shot through Harry, momentarily turning his blood to ice.

A spy.

The last time there had been a spy in the Death Eaters, it had been nothing short of catastrophic.

That had been back during the war. The spy had eventually been discovered. But he'd planned for that, and had transfigured his clothing into explosives.

Out of everyone present at the time, the Dark Lord and Draco were the blast's only survivors.

And Draco had lost his eyes.

"Who?" he rasped, reaching blindly for the water on his desk.

"He didn't know. Supposedly, none of them do. They only know that the Secret Keeper meets with whoever the fuck it is. And they've got to have high-security clearance."

"What info did they give?"

"When the Emperor was leaving. That he'd be gone and incommunicado for at least three months. And more. Info about troop rotations. Ward schematics. At least one of the passwords."

"Who could have that info?" He asked, mind whirring, "I want a list. And we need to change all the codes. Start changing them more regularly, on a random schedule. And-fuck! All the rotations need to be shifted, we need to work on the wards! Fuck!"

"My thoughts exactly. And it's not simple. In Europe alone, we've got at least a hundred of us who could have known that stuff. Throughout the rest of the Empire, there're lots who know bits and pieces. The info about the Emperor for example-thousands knew that. It's a massive problem."

"I want that list. We need to start working through it, now. But...you can cross off the people who were with us from the beginning."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I do," Harry said, his heart beginning to slow back to its normal rhythm, "if they fought on our side then, we can trust them. At least preliminarily. If we need to investigate one of them, we will. But for now, we assume it's not one of them."

Blaise nodded, colour starting to return to his face.

"We need to make an example. The prisoner, Martin. Any family?"

"A brother. He's married. Two children. Never shown any inclination to be a part of anything like this, but we do have them in custody."

"Good. Interrogate them. Then destroy them. Make it a public thing. Show them what will happen if they defy us."

"Will do. Diagon?"

"Yeah."

"Done. I want to get a few muggles. Go over interrogation techniques again, make sure we don't have any more fuck-ups in the future."

"Well, it is a Tuesday. Selwyn should be doing his auction. Get some. But get me that list before you go."

Blaise stood up and began making his way to the door.

"Send in Helga on your way out. And don't tell anyone about the spy."

Blaise nodded and left.

A few seconds later, Helga walked in.

His secretary was quite tall, about the same height as him.

Some vestige of her once youthful beauty still remained, in the few strands of blonde hair that hadn't yet greyed, in the striking blue eyes and still full lips.

She'd been one of the earliest to join the Emperor's cause in Russia, back when his return wasn't yet public knowledge. He'd seen her in battle a few times, and though she preferred working in an organizational position, she was a terrifying warrior.

"Helga, could you arrange some meetings for me, please? With Snape, Rookwood, and Draco?"

"Of course. All at once, or separate, sir?"

"Separate. I don't know if Rookwood or Snape will be available on such short notice, but tell them it's urgent."

"I'll get on it at once."

"I'm going to be calling some of my family in. They will be present for the meetings. And if anything comes from Blaise, please send it in straight away, no matter who's with me."

She nodded and paused for a moment, chewing her lip.

"Is-is everything all right, sir? You seem...disturbed."

He looked at her, considering.

He'd told Blaise that it couldn't be anyone who had been with them since the beginning, and Helga truly had. She'd fought by his side when they eradicated the goblins before even Hogwarts was in their hands.

But still; she was his secretary. Sworn to secrecy, of course, but there were ways around that.

She certainly had access to all the information that the spy apparently did.

But he'd known her for over thirty years. And she didn't stand to gain anything from a revolution. Hell, her own son was in the military.

But if she was really a part of them, she could plan it so he wouldn't be in danger.

No, he decided. He wouldn't tell her the whole truth.

But he wouldn't suspect her fully either. Not unless he had a real reason to.

"Just a few things going on. You know, the usual. Don't worry about it."

She left the office, not looking the least bit reassured.

Once she was gone, he closed his eyes and began to concentrate on contacting his family.

Many years previously, the Dark Lord had shown him and Daphne how to make their own version of the Dark Mark: a tattoo linking them together, allowing them to locate one another and even call each other.

They'd made their Mark a raven, like Harry and Daphne's matching Patronus forms.

It had become a family tradition, each of their children receiving a raven on their wrist as soon as they were old enough to withstand the pain-certainly before they left to Hogwarts for the first time.

By the time their second son, Hector got his, they'd figured out how to use them to communicate, speaking into each other's minds no matter how far away they were physically.

As he did now, focusing on the raven on his wrist, concentrating on the links to Daphne, Damien, and Bellona.

' _I want to meet with you all. Can you manage an hour?'_

Immediately, Damien responded.

' _I could be there in one and a half, two on the outside.'_

' _Fine. Two hours, everyone?'_

' _Is it urgent, dear?'_ Daphne asked, ' _I've got a meeting planned with that Turkish general, and it might take a while.'_

' _It is. Can you push him off till later?'_

' _I think so. He might be offended, but we can deal with that.'_

' _Yes, we can. Bella? What about you?'  
_

' _Blaise asked me to help show his team some interrogation techniques.'_

' _Leave it till later.'_

' _Why can't we just speak like this?'_

Even in her thoughts, Bellona sounded petulant.

He struggled to hold back a mental sigh, just barely succeeding.

' _Because I'm waiting for physical information that we can all see together, and there will be other people joining us.'_

' _Fine,'_ Bella huffed ' _but I'm not cleaning myself up for them.'_

' _You mean to say you sometimes clean yourself up?'_

' _Fuck off, Damien.'_

' _Children, please,'_ Daphne said, sounding tired and long-suffering. ' _You're giving me a headache.'_

' _I'll be there.'_

Abruptly, Bellona left the conversation.

' _She's been acting more intense than usual lately,'_ Damien said, ' _did I tell you what she told Samantha?'_

' _She's always like this after a break-up, Damien. Always.'_

' _I'm telling you, dad. She's a bit...unhinged.'_

' _Aren't we all?'_ Daphne asked, sounding amused. ' _We're not exactly known for our sanity.'_

' _No. But she's-'_

' _Your sister,'_ Harry cut in, his thoughts overtaking his son's and drowning them out. ' _And you don't need to worry about her. She's a big girl, she can take care of herself.'_

' _I know that! I'm not worried about her! I'm worried about anyone around her!'_

' _Damien-'_

' _She told Samantha that she broke him to see if she would feel anything.'_

For the second time that morning, Harry's blood turned to ice.

They'd known for a while about Bellona's...habits.

It was hard to ignore when her boyfriends kept turning up brutally murdered, or sold to the apothecaries. Of course, being his daughter, she was far above the law.

But she'd been dating Eric for over a year, and they'd seemed to be the epitome of a loving couple. She'd taken a more active part in interrogations, and had acted her impulses out on muggles instead.

But now...this. He'd thought maybe she'd lost control, did something she regretted and felt terrible about it.

As usual, when it came to his children, he was wrong.

' _And did she?'_ Daphne asked slowly, cautiously.

He could almost feel how Damien was shaking his head.

' _She said she didn't. She said she felt nothing but the magic. She's got it worse than any of us, and she-'_

' _I'll talk to her.'_

' _Dad, I-'_

' _I will talk to her. That's all. This conversation is done. See you in two hours.'_

He stopped concentrating on the connection, and let it fizzle out.

Then he put his head in his hands.

From when he and Daphne had first gotten into a serious relationship, from the first time he'd thought about the possibility of one day having children, he'd been terrified of one thing.

Of his kids turning out to be more messed up than even he and Daphne were.

And now, it seemed like his worries were not in vain.

And it was truly, completely and utterly his fault.

Of course, it would come to this. Of fucking course, it would. With him raising his kids the way he had, how could it possibly have turned out any different?

' _Don't worry about that now. Not now. Focus. Got to speak to the other two.'_

He wouldn't worry about trying to get in touch with Hector right now. Though he would have to keep him in the loop about this, it seemed like the spy was in Britain.

And Hector was in America, heading up the Death Eaters there.

For now, he thought of Livia and Agrippa.

His two youngest, still in Hogwarts. Livia was finishing up her seventh and final year, and Agrippa was moving into his fifth.

He'd worried about Agrippa for a while, thinking the boy was soft, unable to do what needed to be done.

But only two months beforehand, on Agrippa's fifteenth birthday, as was the family tradition, he'd sworn him to secrecy, and told his youngest son about Horcruxes.

He'd stood by while Agrippa made his first, marvelling as always at the immediate physical changes; the reddening of the eyes, the strange way the features seemed to blur.

And he'd caught the way Agrippa's expression had transformed into one of total unholy glee.

His worries had vanished immediately.

Now, he concentrated on his children, on the Ravens on their wrists.

' _Good morning. Still in the middle of breakfast, right?'_

' _Yup.'_ Agrippa answered.

' _Yeah. Is this going to take long? People think I'm weird when I just stare into space for a while.'_

' _Not too long, Liv. Listen, I want you guys to keep an eye on Sprout. More than usual, I mean. Let me know if she's acting more nervous or excited than usual.'_

' _Ok,'_ Agrippa answered slowly, ' _but why? What's going on?'_

' _Is this connected to those attacks, dad?'_

' _Maybe. I doubt she'd actually be involved, she just wants to look after the students. But it is possible. And let me know if you hear anything at all from the other kids. Even if it sounds like it would be just talk.'_

' _We always do.'_

' _I know you do, I'm just adding emphasis. It seems like this group is more organized than we thought.'_

' _We'll keep you updated.'_

' _I know you will. Have a good day, kids. Love you.'_

' _You too.'_

A few seconds after he finished the conversation, Helga walked back into the room.

"This came from Blaise," she said, handing over a folded piece of parchment, "Draco will be here at twelve, Snape at twelve thirty and Rookwood thinks he can manage one or one thirty."

Harry glanced at the clock on the wall. Nine thirty.

"Perfect. Thanks, Helga."

"Just doing my job."

As she left, he unfolded the parchment and began to peruse the list of possible traitors.

And to plan.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32._

Harry woke up, switching from unconsciousness to bright attention instantly.

He took stock of himself, glad to notice no injuries.

Whatever the artefact had done, it hadn't damaged him. The light that had pierced his chest had not physically harmed him.

' _But it activated,'_ he thought, panic beginning to rise within him, ' _oh shit, it activated. If Severus' right, that means the people in this world-they sacrificed someone for it. An innocent. Oh fuck.'_

He squashed the fear, not allowing it to take control, not letting it gain an edge.

Slowly, he sat up, looking around.

Wherever they were, it had been through hell.

Dust coated the broken tiles, and twisted pieces of rebar poked their way through the ruined concrete.

A large patch of wall was actually missing, and sunlight streamed through, illuminating the wreckage before him.

It looked like it had once been a muggle building. Those were light fixtures in the roof, and he spotted a few outlets, covered in years of grime.

He could hear no cars from the outside, only a few distant voices and some birdsong.

All of this crossed his mind in the space of a few seconds, in the time it took to locate the other people on the floor.

Closest to him were Hermione and Snape.

Another group lay a little further away. He couldn't see them clearly enough to make out faces, but they weren't his main focus yet anyway.

He ignored the other group, for now, bending down and prodding his wife.

"Hermione," he whispered, "wake up."

He heard someone stirring, someone from the other group.

Quickly, he drew his wand and aimed at his wife.

"Ennervate!"

Instantly, Hermione came to, blinking her eyes and moving the hair out of her face.

"Harry? What's going-oh shit! The artefact! What-"

"Shh!" he hissed, "softly, there are other people here, and-"

"Oh Merlin," a voice said, coming from the other group of people. A voice Harry knew intimately, full of wonder and confusion. "Oh, my good god."

He turned around, away from his Hermione sitting beside him, and looked into the painfully familiar eyes of Hermione Granger.

If that wasn't enough of a shock, he almost fainted when he saw the person slowly waking up next to the other Hermione.

He fell smack on his ass, landing on the dirty floor with an oomph as the air rushed out of him.

The other Hermione just kept staring, eyes wide and confused.

And Ron sat up next her, rubbing his eyes.

Ron.

Harry's innards felt like an iron fist was squeezing them.

This could not be happening.

This could not be real. Not a chance.

"Hermione, what the hell happened there, didn't you say-"

Ron did a double take that would have been comical at any other time.

Tears prickled at Harry's eyes as his once best friend's jaw fell and he shook his head from the one Hermione to the other.

"What the absolute fuck?" he muttered, and the sound of his voice, not heard for over thirty years, made Harry shake.

He just sat there, too shocked to even speak.

"It must have activated somehow," the other Hermione said, still staring straight at them, "somehow, we-"

She cut off suddenly, going pale and scared-looking.

"What the fuck?!" Ron shouted.

Harry turned his head, following Ron's outstretched hand automatically.

Severus stood there, wavering slightly on his feet.

Quick as an adder, his wand was in his hand.

"Hermione," he hissed, "What was the purpose of that artefact?"

"Holy shit."

Harry turned his head again, knowing who else was there but still needing to see.

He stood behind the other Hermione and Ron, with Ginny by his side.

The same green eyes that peeked at him from the mirror every day, the same famous scar, the same rowdy hair.

It was him.

For some reason, seeing himself shocked him into action, breaking him out of the Ron induced stupor.

He was on his feet in an instant, his wand pointed at the other group.

"What-"

"How-why did you bring us here?" He asked, fighting with everything he had just to keep his voice even.

"We didn't!" The other version of him shouted, "We have no idea-"

"We didn't activate it," he growled, "which means one of you did! Who the fuck are you people! Why-"

"Who are we?" The other him laughed, a jagged sound like glass breaking, "we were just at Ron and Hermione's! Who are you? How the fuck is he even here?"

His hand shot out, and Harry almost blasted him away. The other him didn't even seem to notice, he just pointed his finger at Snape.

"Why did you bring us here?" he repeated, "How did you even know-"

"WE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!"

"YOU MUST HAVE!"

"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!"

Everyone switched their attention to Hermione.

She was staring at her counterpart with a far-off look in her eyes, biting her lip with an expression that told Harry that she was deep in thought.

"You're an Unspeakable, aren't you?" she finally asked.

The other her nodded.

"Chief, actually. But-"

"You were studying an artefact found buried not too far from Stonehenge?"

"You were too?"

"And your one, it just suddenly activated, out of nowhere?" Hermione continued, not answering the other one.

"Yes."

"So did ours."

"So the people in this world," other Hermione said, looking excited, "they must have done it! On purpose? Maybe they were just-"

"Excuse me," other him said, "Do any of you mind explaining what the hell you're talking about?"

Hermione motioned to the other one.

She swallowed thickly and then said.

"That thing I was showing you guys. As I said, we don't know how to make it work. But based on some of the writings we found with it, it opens a gateway between different dimensions. Between different worlds."

And Ron started to laugh.

The sound of his laugh echoed in Harry's ears, filling his mind with painful memories. It made him want to laugh. It made him want to curl up into a ball and laugh until he wept.

"Sorry," Ron said, straightening up and staring into their bewildered faces, "sorry. You must have gone to a lot of trouble to put this all together, and here I am laughing at you. Definitely a good one, hell, if I could market this-"

"I don't think they're joking, Ron," Ginny called out shrilly.

"No," Hermione said, "we're not."

Ron looked around, seeming to take note of the terrible conditions of the place for the first time.

"Well," he said, humour drained from his voice entirely, "fuck me."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

"So, dad, what's up?"

Harry looked around at them. Daphne sat next to him, beautiful as the day they'd wed, her wax-like features only enhancing her glory to him.

Damien looked almost exactly like him. His nose had been Daphne's before the Horcruxes shrunk it, and his cheekbones had been slightly sharper than his, but otherwise, they'd looked very damn similar.

He seemed interested, at least.

Not like Bellona. She sat there, playing with her fingernails, looking bored beyond belief.

True to her word, she hadn't cleaned up before coming. There were bloodstains on her robes, and her face and hands were splattered as well, although there the crimson ichor had dried to a paint-like consistency.

"We've got a spy in the organization," he said, prompting gasps and finally, some life to spring up in Bellona. "And I have no clue who the fuck it is."

* * *

 _Hermione Potter._

"Let me just get this straight," Ron said, rubbing his forehead, "that thing was some kind of dimension traveling device. And you had one too?"

Hermione nodded grimly, her hand tightening around Harry's.

Meeting her counterpart from another reality had been...interesting, to say the least. Entirely nerve-wracking, enough to make her half think she was going insane, but interesting.

Seeing Ron again, on the other hand, was a different experience.

Oh, he wasn't the boy she remembered. But it was him. He was alive.

And every word he spoke just reminded her of the pain, made her heart constrict and her veins tighten.

She couldn't think about him right now. She just couldn't. She was barely managing to hold herself together, just at the sound of his voice, just at the sight of his face.

So familiar, exactly as she thought he'd have looked now. Exactly as he appeared in her dreams.

Try as she might, she couldn't keep her mind off of it. Off of him.

Off of the fact that apparently, another version of her was happily together with him, if she had put the hints together correctly.

"Ok. So we all ended up here, wherever the hell we are."

She winced, his voice burning into her very soul.

God, how haw she going to manage this? How the fuck could she possibly keep a clear enough mind to deal with this mess of a situation?

' _He's not the Ron you knew,'_ she reminded herself. ' _Even though he looks and sounds like him, it isn't him.'_

She could tell herself that as much as she wanted, but it wouldn't stop her heart from pounding when his eyes fell on her.

She closed her eyes as her counterpart spoke, breathing deeply and trying to think of nothing.

"Yes, Ron," other Hermione said, waving her hands, "Yes. This is...I don't even have words for this. It's unparalleled. There's so much to discover, things must have played out differently in your world, but-"

"We have bigger problems to deal with right now," Harry said, his eyes focused on the other Harry, "far, far bigger problems."

"Yeah," other Harry said, and his voice sent a shiver down her spine, it was so similar to her Harry's, and yet, just slightly off. "We need to figure out why they just went off, and how to get home."

She decided to block off her emotions completely. She was nowhere near an expert at Occlumency, but Severus had taught her enough that she could manage that. She could turn analytical, focusing purely on the logic and thought of the discussion, leaving her feelings behind.

She knew, however, that she wouldn't be able to keep it up for long. Not with Ron standing there. Not with him alive.

She couldn't manage it for long, but a short time would be better than nothing.

"Well, maybe we should start by leaving this place? I mean-"

"That is a terrible idea, Miss. Weasley."

The other group all jerked at the sound of Snape's voice, and the other Harry trembled when he looked at him.

"It's Mrs. Potter, actually. Has been for quite some time."

"I really couldn't care less. The fact is, simply waltzing out of this place could be disastrous."

"Why?" Other Harry challenged, "what could-"

"Did you not discover what the artefact required in order to activate it?" Severus asked.

"No," other her answered, biting her lip and looking at him. "We thought-"

"A sacrifice," Severus said, and Hermione nodded, "a blood sacrifice. Of an innocent."

Everyone fell silent at that.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

"And this is everyone who could know the stuff the spy does?"

"In Britain, at least. There are a few others scattered throughout the Empire, but we're focusing on these for now."

"And there's no way of contacting the Dark Lord?" Daphne asked.

"No. Not till He's off of the fucking moon. Or till we send anyone else there."

"If it gets worse we might have to," she said, "send someone, at least. He'll want to know."

"I know He will. But I can't help it if He's not on the fucking planet. I just can't do anything about that."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror._

"Fine, this world is messed up. But we're not going to get anywhere just hiding out here! Where are we, anyway?"

"I think," Hermione said slowly, looking around, "in fact, I'm sure. This is our apartment. Before we put the space expansion charms on it. Don't you think so, Ron?"

Ron looked around too and nodded.

Other Harry winced.

He and the other Hermione did that whenever they couldn't ignore Ron. Harry was pretty sure that however events had played out in the other world, they had ended with Ron dead.

It was a terrifying thought and one that pushed him to demand answers, to try to find out how things were different there.

But he was wary of this other Harry.

One thing he'd picked up as an Auror was the ability to assess someone almost immediately upon meeting them.

And what he was reading from his alternate scared him.

This other Harry, he was dangerous.

The way he held himself, the way his eyes were scanning his surroundings almost constantly, the way his hand hovered near his wand, his entire posture, and body language.

It all spoke of rigorous training, and of barely contained violence.

Somehow, he was certain that this other Harry was no Auror.

This entire experience was just far, far too surreal. For god's sake, Snape stood in front of him!

Breathing, talking, alive.

"We're not getting anywhere like this," Hermione said, "We need to start comparing stories, see what's different between our worlds. Maybe we can-"

"That won't help at all," Snape said with a snort, and Merlin, his voice sounded just as sarcastically cold as it did in Harry's memories, "we'll simply end up here for hours. By the way you've all been looking at me, I'm guessing I didn't survive the war in your world?"

Harry shook his head, that terrible scene playing in his mind again.

"But you did defeat the Dark Lord?"

"Yeah, we beat Vol-"

"NO!"

Snape's face was flushed, his eyes wide.

He looked as deranged as ever he had.

"If-If somehow the Dark Lord was victorious in this world, the Taboo might be in effect. Was there a Taboo on his name in your world?"

"Do you-"

"Was there a Taboo on his name in your world?"

"Yes, all right! But do you really think he could have won?"

Snape glanced at the Harry and Hermione by his side. That Harry shrugged, but the Hermione with him nodded slowly.

"Yes. I think it's possible. Use your brains for a moment, Potter. In order to activate the artefact, an innocent had to be sacrificed. In any sane world, that wouldn't have occurred. And this-this building we're in. It looks like it has seen war."

Hermione frowned, staring at the hole in the wall.

"So what?" He asked, starting to feel impatient. "We just hide here, without finding out what's going on?"

"Not at all. But we must proceed with the utmost caution. And we must keep an open mind to every possibility, including that of the Dark Lord ruling this land."

"And if he is?"

The other Harry smiled, baring his teeth in a harsh display.

"Then we end that rule."

"I do think we need to know a little about each other," Hermione said shrilly, "at the very least, we need to know your capabilities, what we can rely on you for, and-"

"We could ask you the same thing." other Hermione said, and Harry immediately revised his opinion of her.

He'd thought she was like his Hermione, kind and gentle, not willing to fight more than was necessary, but going to the wall when she had to.

Now, though, he was beginning to see a glimmer of what he'd glimpsed from the other Harry. A sense of coiled menace, something that screamed danger to him.

"We beat Vo-You-Know-Who," he said. "We won. Hermione's Chief unspeakable. I'm Chief Auror."

"And R-Ron?" other Hermione asked, and the way she stumbled on his name confirmed Harry's suspicions.

"I work with George. But I go through the Auror field test once a year."

"Same," Ginny added. "Well, not about work, but about the test. Old paranoia, you know. And Harry's insistent."

"What about you?" he demanded, "are you up to fight?"

They laughed. Other Harry and Hermione actually laughed, and Snape cracked a smile.

"You could say that," Harry said. "You could definitely say that."

"What do you do?"

"Hermione's Chief Unspeakable, so I guess some things don't change. Snape's headmaster."

"And you?"

He smiled, but his eyes stayed cold and dark.

"I kill the people that need killing."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

"It's not that complicated. We start feeding false information, different bits to different people. Then we narrow it down. Do it again and again, till we've figured out who it is. Then we get everything we can from them, and then see how long we can keep them alive."

"Not a bad idea," he said, nodding at Bella, "but a difficult one. How do we give barracks heads false info about troop rotations?"

"I don't know. Damien, any ideas?"

Damien sat there, rubbing his chin.

"Give me a bit," he said, "let me think about it."

"We set up different rotations at all the different barracks," Daphne said, "let the heads think that their shifts are the same across the board. Maybe actually do a few the same."

"That could work," he said slowly, "but they're still not the only ones. Draco's coming, I'm going to tell him the truth."

"What can he help with?" Bella asked with a snort, "he's a banker!"

"He's in charge of the bank. Which means he can look through the accounts of everyone on this list, find out if anyone's been receiving strange payments. And he can keep his eyes open."

"Are you sure-"

"I trust Draco," he snapped, making Damien look down, "as much as I trust anyone."

* * *

 _Hermione Potter._

"They actually formed that task force on your world?" Other Harry asked, aghast.

"Of course," Harry said, still smiling, "why does that shock you so much?"

"Because-because you could do anything! With no oversight, who's to say you're making the right decisions?"

"Some of them have probably been wrong. But on a whole, we've seen a huge drop in crime, and-"

"Only because-"

"Enough!"

As she shouted, her counterpart made a small explosion from her wand.

' _Guess we're not so different.'_ She thought wryly and hesitantly smiled at her.

Other Hermione smiled back.

She ignored Ginny's glare and took Harry by the hand.

"Listen. We need to get out and see what's going on out there. How far is it to Diagon?"

Other Hermione and Ron both answered at the same time.

"Twenty-minute walk."

She felt her eyelid twitch, as she heard her own voice overlapping with his in perfect concert.

' _Keep it together! This is not the Ron you know, she is not you! Control your emotions!'_

Easier thought than done.

"Great. If it's the same time here as in our world, it should be," she glanced at her watch, "about eleven forty-five. Let's have an hour to compare notes about our worlds, then leave. That sound good?"

As they all nodded and mumbled their assent, she caught other Hermione's eye.

Strangely enough, curiosity began to burn within her.

Alongside the jealousy.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

"Offhand, I don't know of anything like that. But I'll look into it."

"You personally, Draco. We can't let this spread."

Draco shook his head, one of his eyes rolling back in his skull for a moment.

"And if you can think of anyone else, anyone who'd fit the specs. Let me know."

"Will do."

Draco stood up, shaking Harry's hand. Then, with a nod to the rest of them, he gripped his cane and left.

"Who else is coming?" Daphne asked.

"Rookwood. I want to know if they made progress with that idea they had. You know, to break a Fidelius."

"Do you think he's got something?"

"Honestly?" Harry asked, leaning back in his chair, "no. He'd have told us. But he might have something that could help us. Snape's coming first, then Rookwood."

"Well, between the two of them they should have something useful for us," Daphne said.

Harry took her hand in his.

"I hope so."

* * *

 _Ron._

Ron walked slowly through the apartment, letting his fingers trail along the dusty wall.

It was gut-wrenching, seeing his home like this, but he had to at least try to keep in mind that this wasn't his home, not really.

That these other people, they weren't the Harry and Hermione and even Snape that he knew.

The two Hermiones had immediately started talking excitedly, comparing the differences in their histories.

His Harry had stared at the other for a few minutes before they too began their discussion.

So he and Ginny and cornered Snape, and what a strange experience that was.

This Snape seemed less...well, frankly, he seemed like less of an asshole than their Snape had been.

They'd spoken for maybe half an hour before Ron had forced himself out of the oppressive conversation.

Now, he strolled through an alternate version of his home, wondering.

Was that really how things would have turned out if Harry hadn't saved him?

If he'd have died back in the sixth year, would his Harry and Hermione really have become these-these vigilante killers?

Apparently so. Hell, based on what Snape had said, they were practically as bad as Death Eaters themselves.

Snape had described how they first questioned him, and Ron wondered if his Harry and Hermione could ever have been capable of such a thing. Of casting the Cruciatus, over and over again. Of murdering Draco Malfoy in cold blood, snobby bastard that he was.

It seemed so. He'd leave it up to the Hermiones to figure out, but it certainly seemed like that was the moment where things changed between their worlds.

With his life or death.

Bizarre as it was, it did actually make him feel good. To know that he really was that important.

But the fact that Harry and Hermione would have been happy together.

That just left him in a jumble of confusing emotions.

"It's strange, isn't it?"

He spun around heart pounding.

Hermione stood just behind him. His Hermione.

He could tell instantly, just from her eyes. They were softer than the other ones.

"Merlin, you scared me."

She hugged him tight, crushing him against her.

"Oh, Ron. I don't think I've ever told you how grateful I am for you. To have you," she sniffled a bit, raising a hand and wiping at her eyes, "in their world-in their world, you-"

"I know," he said, not willing to hear it again, "Snape, he told us."

"I just can't imagine-I don't want to imagine what it would be like. How I would get through it."

"They seem to have managed it all right."

It came out slightly more bitterly than he intended, his old, long-forgotten insecurities rising again.

"She's not me. She's not the type of person I'd ever want to be. They're not-they're not good people, Ron. I mean, I'd trust them in a fight. But they're harsh. Callous and violent. She's not me. Don't forget that. And he's not Harry. Not our Harry."

He pulled away slightly, just enough to look into her eyes.

"No. He's not. They're not."

"She won't-she doesn't want to talk about you. She just asked if I'm happy with you. And looked like she was going to cry when I told her I was."

He hugged her tightly again, feeling suddenly warm.

"I love you, Ron. And we're going to find our way out of this. We're going to find our way home."

"I'm just-I'm freaking out, Hermione. I'm totally out of my depth here. I don't understand any of this, and I just want to go home."

It felt like a weight lifted from him when he admitted it, his chest suddenly expanding and losing some of its tightness.

"I'm terrified. If Snape's right, and-and You-Know-Who won here-"

"We can't know that," she interrupted, "we can't even assume that. It's just a possibility. One we have to bear in mind."

"No, we can't know it. But it feels right, doesn't it?"

Slowly, she nodded.

"If he did, that's-that's bad. And how are we even getting home? If you need to-to sacrifice someone to make that thing work, how can we do that?"

"Maybe they figured out another way of activating it?"

But the way she suggested it made it sound like she was grasping at straws.

They separated slowly, Ron going back to staring at the wall.

"And I'm-I'm worried about mum. It's always hard for her, today. And we're meant to be there for lunch. Is that how they're gonna figure out that something happened? When we just don't pitch? Will they even work it out?"

"I'm sure once we don't-don't arrive they'll figure out something's up," she said hesitantly, "at some point, some of my colleagues will check out our apartment. When they find the artefact there, they'll realize that it must have activated."

He kicked the wall, and a cloud of dust fell from near the roof.

"Sorry." He muttered.

As if she didn't hear him, Hermione continued.

"They'll probably be frightened, at first. But they'll be ok, Ron. Don't worry about your mum. There's nothing you can do for her from here."

"At least the kids are old enough that I don't have to worry about them."

"See?" She whispered, hugging him again, "there's always a silver lining."

They stood there for a few minutes more, just embracing one another.

And then they heard other Harry's voice.

So similar to their Harry's, just lacking a hint of warmth that they'd never even noticed, it was so much a part of him.

"You all ready?"

"Wait!"

They all turned to look at Ginny.

"Why don't we at least put on some Illusions charms, maybe a few makeup spells?"

"We thought about it," Harry said, nodding to her and then to his alternate, "but this way, we'll see how people react to us straight away. I mean, unless we come up against Voldem-You-Know-Who himself, we should be able to handle anything."

Other Harry chuckled at that, and clapped his hands together, giving them a brisk rub before nodding.

"Ok. Let's go, people. Remember. Notice everything, and be on your guard."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

"Nothing new on Sprout?"

Snape shook his head, greasy hair swinging like rats' tails in front of his face.

"She seems exactly like normal. If you want, I could dose her and ask a few questions, but I doubt it would be necessary."

"You don't think so? She's definitely in a perfect position to manipulate the students. To put them in touch with the rebels."

"She is. But she wouldn't do that. If she did, she would risk losing her position. And she wants nothing other than to protect the children. From you."

Harry smiled. Since he'd started teaching at Hogwarts, he'd been placed in charge of discipline for any actions deemed rebellious against the Empire.

He worked on a three strike system.

The first strike was fifteen seconds under the Cruciatus.

The second strike was thirty seconds.

The third was a minute.

If there was any recidivism after that, the student in question would be given to the Department of Mysteries or one of the apothecaries.

So far, no-one had ever earned a third strike, and only two had ever gotten a second strike.

"Maybe if you could question her. Obliviate her afterward, of course."

Snape sighed.

"You really don't need to tell me how to do my job."

"Just doing what I have to. Otherwise, tell me. Who from the original Order of the Phoenix is still unaccounted for? Besides Jones and Doge?"

"None, really. And I doubt you'd need to worry about Doge. He was Dumbledore's age. If he still lives, he won't be of any real use to them."

Harry nodded.

"But, there were a few others. Not actual members, rather, people who were somewhat associated with them. Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth. Kingsley Shacklebolt's brother, Tarquin. Murdoc Hammage. Augusta Longbottom. A few others."

"Could you put a list together, please?"

"You'll have it by tomorrow."

"Excellent. Bye, Snape."

Snape stood up to leave, absentmindedly brushing his hair back.

"Are we still on for tomorrow night?" He asked, looking at Daphne, "Aliza's been looking forward."

"As long as nothing comes up, we should be."

"She'll be pleased. See you then. Damien, Bellona."

With their farewells hanging in the air, Snape left the room.

"So, what do you think?"

"Well," Bellona said, lounging back in her chair, "he's right about Sprout. Cowardly bitch probably wouldn't fight even if we put her in the ring."

"No, she wouldn't. But if we put one of her students in, she probably would."

* * *

 _Severus._

Severus had never seen London so quiet before.

No cars honked as they weaved through busy streets, no pedestrians crowded the pavements.

No, save for them, the streets were empty.

Oh, they'd seen a few people flying overhead, waving at them from a cloudless sky as they passed. They'd heard some voices in the distance, and something from the direction of Diagon Alley that sounded like a Sonorous charm.

But the streets were empty.

And were clearly, undeniably, ruined by war.

The building that they'd exited seemed to have fared the best. It was actually still standing, as opposed to the piles of rubble around it.

Great potholes lay torn open in the middle of the road, and there were traffic lights and rusted street signs strewn haphazardly upon the ground.

Definitely a war. And one waged using muggle weapons if he had to guess.

Which left Severus confused.

If the muggles had discovered wizardkind and waged war, they should have won.

Never mind their technology, they had the force of numbers. While the Dark Lord could have easily faced down a muggle army, the average witch or wizard was not particularly combat trained. They would have fallen, their pathetic lower-grade shield charms caving into a barrage of bullets.

And yet, clearly, they hadn't. The fliers overhead certainly proved that.

Everything about this situation stank to him.

Luckily, the alternates were willing to heed his suggestion. The building that hosted Ron and Hermione's home in another world was now under a Fidelius charm, with him as Secret Keeper.

He forced himself not to think about what they'd told him, forced himself not to wonder what death would have felt like at Nagini's teeth.

That was not him. That had been a weaker version, one who had almost failed in his mission.

And yet, he couldn't help it.

Because he knew that Harry and Hermione, two people who, strangely enough, he had come to like and respect, perhaps even love, would have traded his life for Ron's in the blink of an eye.

And he knew that they would have been right to do so if they had been given the option.

' _I have changed,'_ he told himself, ' _no longer am I that hateful, worthless man. I have grown.'_

And he had, in truth.

A few months after the Dark Lord's fall, he'd sat there with his wand pressed to his temple. He'd accomplished everything he wished for, achieved vengeance for the only thing of true beauty the world had ever produced and had no more purpose to life.

And he'd heard her voice in his mind, chiding him for his stupidity.

So he had chosen to live and to try to be a better person. Hell, he had chosen to try and simply not be a terrible person.

And he had grown better. He truly had.

He had friends now, not merely tolerable acquaintances. He had people who he legitimately enjoyed spending time with, and they with him.

A voice tore him out of his musings.

He looked up wand at the ready, to see Ginny holding a torn piece of newspaper, a look of utter dismayed disgust on her face.

"...and-and-Merlin's balls! They've got muggles fighting dragons! It says the Emperor decided that since public interest in these type of things was so high, they'd do it for a few months as a trial run. And that it won't affect the Quidditch cup! God! What the fuck type of world is this?"

' _The muggles did wage war,'_ Severus realized with a dawning sense of horror, ' _and impossibly, somehow, they lost.'_

"A world where V-You-Know-Who's in charge," Harry said matter-of-factly, "unless anyone has any other ideas about this Emperor?"

No one answered him.

"Ginny?" Other Harry asked, "Anything else in there?"

She turned the paper over and shook her head, looking like she wanted to be sick.

"It's just one page. Nothing else, except the ad for Selwyn's Muggle Emporium. What the fuck type of world is this?"

"Selwyn," he heard himself saying. "A Death Eater. Francis Selwyn, probably. An unimportant man, he used to try to use his old family name and wealth to appear more valuable and important than he actually was."

Harry looked at him.

"You killed him. In our world, at least."

Harry nodded, his eyes blank.

"Maybe I'll have to make a habit out of it."

The alternates laughed nervously, but he and Hermione didn't. They knew Harry well enough to be able to sense the growing rage, the furious fire within him.

"We can't act until we know more about this world."

"I know, Severus. I fucking know, all right. So lets at least go find out more."

He turned back to the alternates.

"Let's carry on then."

It wasn't much later that they had entered Selwyn's Emporium. The Sonorous charm was emanating from there, cajoling passers-by to come and see their wares, brought in from all over the Empire.

The store itself was enormous, with a large, smoked-glass window on the outside. It stood at the very entrance to Diagon Alley, and there was a small crowd of people with children outside it.

None of them gave any of the world-travellers a second glance. They all were too engulfed in conversation, nudging their children to follow them into the Alley proper, or trying to get their friends to look after their kids while they went in.

The reason for that became apparent quickly. A large glowing circle enveloped the store, a line cut into the cobblestones.

A signpost announced the presence of an Age Line, to prevent entry to any under the age of fifteen.

"At least they have some form of morals," other Hermione whispered, "but it's like they regressed to an ancient society. Like the Romans. How could they have gone so far back in thirty years?"

He shot her a look. So she had noticed. At least she was speaking quietly about it.

"Whatever changed here, compared to our worlds. It must have been something big. Something that happened a lot earlier. Maybe-maybe-"

"Maybe we should not talk about this now," he hissed, drawing a curious look, "Wait till this outing is finished."

She nodded, blushing.

' _What if, somehow, the Dark Lord never was vanquished by Harry? What if he had stopped me from going to Dumbledore, or killed Lily before allowing her the chance to live? If he won even fifty years ago, this would still be remarkable. But more believable than a mere thirty years. It must have been something like that. He must have won the first war.'_

Lost in thought, Snape entered the store.

He bumped right into Harry.

Harry had stopped dead in his tracks, his hands tightening into fists.

Snape followed his line of sight and managed to show no signs of shock.

In the centre of the store stood a large stage, easily a hundred meters across.

And on it, standing in a line were a group muggles, naked but for the loincloths around their waists and the shackles around their necks.

There were at least ten of them, equally split across the gender divide.

One of them, a girl who looked no older than fifteen, was crying, her body shaking with her sobs.

As he tore his eyes from the pitiful sight, he heard Hermione furiously whispering to Harry.

"Don't do anything! We can't do anything till we know more about this place!"

"I know," he growled. "Tell the others. But be ready."

"What are you planning?"

"Nothing! But don't you think someone might notice that we're the only people here who find this place...fucking evil?"

"Maybe. Maybe. I'll tell them. But don't start anything, Harry. Please."

"I won't, all right!"

He drew closer to Harry, moving until he could easily whisper into his ear.

"Do not be ridiculous. You can't do anything. Not until we know more."

"Severus, look at this fucking place!"

"Do you think I can't see?" he hissed back, "you think I'm not disgusted by this? But I'm not too hot-headed to face the facts! We know incredibly little about this world, you can't act yet!"

"Fine," Harry harrumphed, "fine. But if I get a chance-"

"You'll use your brain, and not purely your temper."

Harry clenched his jaw and nodded, a thick vein sticking out on the side of his face.

Hermione leaned over to her alternate and started to whisper.

The other Hermione swallowed and nodded, pale-faced.

Then she too began to whisper to her companions.

' _At least someone other than me has some sense.'_

A wizard in fine robes strolled onto the stage and began to speak.

Francis Selwyn.

Snape's lips curled as he listened.

"We've got wonderful deals for you today. This one was brought all the way from the Congo," Selwyn poked a black muggle with his wand, making the man cower, "and he is an excellent butler. He'll obey your every order, and will never, ever talk back. Isn't that right?"

Bowing his head, the muggle murmured. "Yes, sir."

"The wave of the future, my fellow witches and wizards. Once, house-elves were only available to the extremely rich. Now, we have muggles. They may not have magic, but he can cook, he can clean, he can help with your children and with your gardening. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Starting price is fifty Galleons. A pittance, for an exotic manservant like this. Of course, he comes with a certificate of health and sterility. Fifty Galleons, anyone?"

Someone in the crowd raised their hand.

"Excellent. Fifty Galleons from Mr. Garnet. Fifty Galleons going once. Going-"

"Fifty-five!"

"Fifty-five from Mrs. Parron. Fifty-"

"Sixty!"

At a hundred and fifty, the muggle man was sold to Mrs. Parron.

He didn't make a sound when a grey robe was thrown over him and his leash-like chains were handed over to her, merely following her out the store with a look of despondent resignation on his face.

Snape shivered as they passed him. The witch was talking about what the man's duties would be, how excited she was to show him off to all of her friends.

' _She doesn't see him as human. None of them do. The Dark Lord truly has won. Muggles are less than animals.'_

"These lovely ladies were brought in from Morocco," Selwyn said, moving over to a pair of similar looking women standing side by side. He gripped one of their breasts and leered at the crowd. "Sisters. Trained in the many ways of giving pleasure. They live...to serve."

One of them arched her back, smiling flirtatiously at the crowd. The other one, the one being held by Selwyn, simply looked impassively forward.

"We'll be starting the bidding at-"

"Five hundred Galleons for both. And you throw that young one in as well."

A hush fell over the crowd as they turned.

The wizard who had spoken was tall, with a dark tinge to his skin. He held a cane in a bejewelled hand and pointed it at the weeping muggle girl on the stage.

When she saw this, she started crying harder, begging in a broken voice.

"Please! Please! Don't do this, don't!"

Selwyn cast a silencing charm on her, barely even glancing her way as he did it.

"I'm going to kill him. I'm going to tear this fucking world apart, starting with him."

"Harry, not now! We need to get out of here!"

"Potter, control yourself!"

"Ah, Mr. Shafiq. Five hundred Galleons, you say? But she was going to be worth three hundred on her own."

"Three hundred?" Shafiq sneered back at Selwyn. "Three hundred? Look at her! She can't stop crying!"

"And some of your clients will pay extra for that, won't they? Besides. She's a virgin. Certified. Let's say, seven hundred for her and the sisters? You'll make your money back within six months, see if you don't."

' _And brothels have become common-place here. Of course. Let the people choke on their basest desires. Distract them from any morals they once held dear.'_

"Snape," the other Hermione hissed, "come on, we're leaving."

He took one last glance at the stage, where Selwyn was beginning to throw robes over the girls.

As he turned to leave, the store's door opened, the little bell above it giving a jingle.

Every single person in the shop fell silent as a group of men in black robes strode purposefully in.

Every one of them had a see-through patch in their left sleeve.

And on every one of their arms, proudly displayed to all and sundry, stood the Dark Mark.

Snape pulled back into the crowd, hoping against hope that the others would be smart enough to follow his lead.

Blessedly, they did.

Even better, the Death Eaters marched toward the stage, barely looking left or right.

"Do nothing," he hissed, barely louder than a breath, directly into Harry's ear. "Not unless they notice us and realize something is wrong."

Harry's shoulders were stiff, and even from behind Severus could see how tense he was.

But mercifully, he nodded, moving his head just an inch.

"Tell the others to be ready. We don't know our status in this world. If we're dead or are rebels, this could be very, very bad."

Harry moved slightly forward, and a few seconds later, the other Harry nodded.

Severus turned his attention back to the Death Eaters, barely noticing the crowd thinning out as people exited the store.

"Master Zabini," Selwyn said, recovering his composure somewhat, "how can I assist you and your men?"

' _Zabini. So that's who it is. And is that Vincent Crabbe?'_

"We need five. Doesn't matter male or female."

"As-as servants? Or as-"

"To teach my men the proper way of conducting an interrogation. Give us the ones who haven't been trained yet. Don't want to have wasted all that energy of yours."

"I-I-of course! Just a minute, just a minute."

Selwyn got off the stage, going through a door behind it.

Shafiq just stood there, the wind quite taken out of his sails.

' _Serves you right for once, you imperious prick.'_

Meanwhile, the Death Eaters were talking among themselves, joking around.

One of them poked Crabbe in the shoulder. When the hulking brute turned, he pointed at the crying girl and muttered something.

They both laughed, and she started crying even harder.

Then Crabbe went up to Zabini and started talking to him.

By now, the crowd had mostly thinned out. There was an empty space around them.

' _The clever thing to do would be to leave,'_ he thought, ' _if others are doing so, it can't be seen as suspicious. We should leave now, try to get hold of a newspaper, and try to speak to people.'_

He was about to tell Harry this when Harry whispered to him.

"If we can, I want to capture one of them."

"Capture one of them? Have you lost your mind, Potter?"

"No. And Hermione agrees. And other Harry said they'd fight if they have to."

"What about not drawing attention to ourselves?"

"Fucking hell, Severus! Look at what they're doing!"

Right then, Selwyn returned to the room, pulling a thick chain. It split off into five, each of which ended around the neck of a muggle.

"I can see, but you can't be too reckless. You're just going to get us killed!"

"They're not expecting it, and we'll find out everything we need from them."

"Harry,-"

Harry glared at him, speaking as softly and quickly as he could.

"No, we can't be dumb about it, but we need to do something, Sev! I can't just watch this! I fucking can't."

"Fine. If we absolutely must. But we do it cleverly. There's no anti-apparition charms or wards up here. We wait till they're leaving, and grab one of the stragglers. We have to be as clever about it as we can."

"Here you go. Five of them. Will they be suitable?"

Zabini ran his eyes along the line of muggles and nodded.

"Perfect. And we want that one as well."

Selwyn followed Zabini's outstretched arm to the tearful young girl.

"I-"He spluttered, licking his lips and darting his gaze from the Death Eaters to Shafiq.

Zabini turned to face Shafiq.

"We thought we'd give it to the Director. But if you've already staked a claim..."

Shafiq paled and took a step back, tapping out a nervous tattoo on the stone floor with his cane.

"Please, take her. With-with my compliments and wishes for his- for his enjoyment."

"We'll take it," Zabini said, stressing the last word out, "and I'll personally tell the Director how co-operative you were."

Shafiq bowed his head, trembling slightly.

' _Who is this Director? Shafiq seems as frightened of him as of the Dark Lord. Could it just be another title? But the Dark Lord was never interested in sex. So who? Crouch? Dolohov? Lucius?'_

"Fine, we'll do it your way. But we're getting one of them. And if we can, we're setting those muggles free."

"Agreed."

They waited, as the Death Eaters took the chain and began to leave.

As he made his way out of the slave market, Zabini came face to face with Severus.

His eyes widened slightly and went huge as he took in Severus' companions.

"Snape? What the fuck? What are you-"

Severus fancied he could hear Harry drawing his wand.

"Zabini, what's the issue?"

Zabini's eyes narrowed.

"Eleven, sixteen, crown, thorn, gamma."

' _A passphrase. Fuck.'_

In the second that Severus didn't answer, Zabini drew his wand, his action mirrored by the ten or so Death Eaters behind him.

Selwyn gasped loudly, and Shafiq took a step back, dropping his cane.

"I don't know who the fuck you people are, but you're coming in for questioning. And I don't think Snape will be happy that you're wearing his face."

Before Severus could even begin to think about the implications of that sentence, Harry jumped into action.

His first curse blew up the ground in the centre of the Death Eaters, throwing them around like rag dolls.

His second, a Killing Curse, took Selwyn in the face.

"Hermione! Get the muggles from the stage!"

The last shoppers still inside screamed and began to run to the door, trampling each other in their haste.

And then the Death Eaters were stumbling back to their feet, and the fight was on.

Snape attacked immediately, pushing at them while they were still out of sorts.

The Death Eaters seemed to have their priorities straight. They seemed to be focusing mainly on him and Harry. They'd split into two main groups.

But, well-trained and experienced as they were, they clearly weren't prepared to face such competent foes.

One of his enemies fell almost immediately, screaming as his ribs caved in and crushed his heart.

A foursome split off from those he was attacking, they began to run to stop those at the stage from freeing the muggles.

He managed to hit one in the back, dropping them as their lungs filled with acid.

He had to whirl back once a spell grazed his cheek.

He attacked, throwing spell after spell, twisting out of the way of a Killing Curse that he had no time to raise a physical shield for, knocking aside a stunner with a contemptuous snarl.

Dimly, he heard the Weasley girl frantically yelling something about the muggles' chains.

He couldn't help them. He had his own problems to deal with.

The trio standing against him were clearly practiced at fighting alongside one another. They were taking turns, two of them attacking in tandem while the third focused on protecting them.

Sweat began dripping down his face, as the ecstasy of battle thrummed in his veins.

He managed to distract two of them with an explosive curse.

And the third, a short wizard with bushy eyebrows, sent a Sectumsempra at him.

He blocked it and growled out his own one, splitting the unfortunate enemy in half.

' _Dwell on that later. Fight now, think later.'_

One of the others attempted to incapacitate him with a Concussion Hex.

He laughed as he sent it ricocheting away, colliding with another jet of light aimed his way.

His wand flashed furiously as he cast spell after spell.

A stream of fire launched itself toward him. He simply redirected it, taking control of it and enlarging the flames as he threw them toward his enemies.

He managed to stun the last one standing against him and turned to see how the rest of the fight was going.

Harry was facing off against Zabini and another two of them.

As Snape focused on them, one of Harry's curses hit one of the other two, felling him with a smoking hole in his chest.

Behind Harry, Crabbe lay on the floor, stunned, next to the body of another Death Eater. That one was clearly dead. Living people had more skull than that.

Near the stage, Hermione and the other Harry fought against a pair of Death Eaters, defending the other alternates behind them.

Hermione's robes were torn in multiple places, with blood seeping through and bits of burnt skin showing.

The other three were busy removing the chains from the muggles, and it seemed to be slow going. They themselves kept having to twist as spells shot toward them, interrupting their rescue mission to protect themselves and the muggles.

Ron was shouting at his sister and wife as they worked furiously on releasing the last muggle. Severus started moving to assist him.

A curse flew over his shoulder and he spun back around.

"Avad-"

His rage overpowered him, furious hatred pouring straight through him toward this man who had thought to end him.

His curse froze the Death Eater's blood. He stood in his place for a second, skin suddenly blue.

Before falling and shattering into a thousand pieces.

"FUCK YOU ALL! FIEND-"

He spun again, but luckily, Harry blasted something at Zabini, preventing him from finishing the curse.

Zabini flew a few feet back, and only his partner's sudden barrage saved him from Harry's next spell.

Harry was slowly pushed back by the stream of curses and hexes, forced to focus on defending himself.

But the Death Eater was overextended and didn't pay attention to Severus.

"Stupefy!"

Zabini shouted. "Wilkes, Barker! Out!"

With a loud crack, he Disapparated, followed immediately by the other two.

For a few minutes, none of them said anything. They just stood there, breathing heavily, blood splattered across the room, the stench of burning flesh filling their noses.

"We need to go," Harry said quietly, "they'll be back with reinforcements. What's the deal with the muggles?"

One of the Hermiones answered. She sounded tearful, so it was probably the alternate.

"We-four of them died. They-the spells hit three, and when we took the chains off of the first one, she just, she just-"

Snape looked to the stage. Lying spread-eagled on the ground, her limbs ashen and wasted away, was one of the muggles.

Hermione was running her wand over Ginny's outstretched arm, while the other Hermione was healing a large cut in Ron's back.

"Bring the others. Knock them out first, don't want to tell them the Secret here. Might be someone listening in."

"Can't we-"

"LISTEN TO ME!"

They fell silent again, staring at Harry. His face and clothes were streaked with gore, and he clutched his wand so tightly sparks shot out the end.

"Just do what I say! We don't have time to argue! Bring the muggles, bring any surviving Death Eaters! Then let's get the fuck out of here before they come back with an army!"

Other Harry stared at him for a few seconds, before giving a grudging nod.

"Ok. Incendio!"

A flame shot from Harry's wand, licking at the wall. Slowly, it began to grow.

"Let's go, people!"

Severus grabbed the hand of the first Death Eater he'd stunned and spun away into nothingness.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

"So no progress on the Fidelius front?"

"Again, no. We've been focusing on other projects."

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead.

Sometimes, having a conversation with Rookwood was like pulling teeth.

' _Fucking Unspeakables.'_

"And you can't try focus on it now? We really need an edge here."

"I know. I can divert some of us from the Moon Project. However, we just made a breakthrough with another project that the Dark Lord ordered, and I need the manpower on it."

"Please. If we can break a Fidelius, it'd change everything."

"And so could our other work," Rookwood said, signs of life finally showing in his eyes, "it could make even more of an impact."

Harry sighed again.

"How long would it take, to train someone to go to the Moon? Just to give a report to Him?"

"You don't trust those we've already trained?"

"No," Harry said flatly.

"Understandable. Certainly no less than a week. The charms and potions cannot be done quicker than that. After that, it would depend on how long it takes for them to learn to use the brooms. I'd say, between one and three weeks."

"These preparations. They don't have side effects, do they?"

Rookwood shook his head, face expressionless again.

"None. Just to allow the body to survive in the vacuum of space, and to prepare for the lower gravity of the moon."

"Damien," Harry said, turning to his son, "I want you to start the prep. If need be, I'm sending you to Him."

"Dad, Samantha-"

"Is only due in three months. And it's not even definite that you'll go. Even if you do, it won't be for long."

He looked mutinous, but still, he nodded.

Harry sighed. "I'll check with Cyrus if he can start the prep as well. Then whoever's ready first can go. Ok?"

With a slightly chagrined look, Damien nodded again.

"Rookwood, I need you to try and-"

They heard a commotion from outside his office door.

Raised voices, drawing nearer.

"I'm telling you, he's busy right now! Just wait!"

"THIS CAN'T FUCKING WAIT!"

The door flew open, and Blaise shot inside.

There was a gash running down his chest, torn through his robes. His face was covered in blood, and he looked beyond demented.

And he had his wand out, aimed right at Harry.

"Eleven, sixteen, crown, thorn, gamma."

Harry didn't even have to think as the correct response rolled off of his tongue.

"Ninety-one, eight, wand, dagaz, omega."

Blaise's wand shook slightly, but he didn't lower it.

"Blaise, what the-"

"How did you first find out about me and Theo?" he whispered.

"I-Daphne and I, we walked in on you guys. In our dorm. Fourth year. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, I think."

Blaise's arm fell like lead.

"We have a serious fucking problem," he said, "get a Pensieve."

* * *

 _Severus._

"You'll examine their minds?"

Snape nodded, feeling exhausted beyond words. He always did, after a fight. As if he had been truly alive for a few moments, and was now dying again.

"Great. Start with Crabbe. We'll speak to the muggles in the meantime, find out whatever they know about the history here."

"Harry," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "I worry about what I'll discover."

Zabini's words echoed in his mind.

' _I don't think Snape will be happy that you're wearing his face.'_

Harry's face darkened.

He reached out and put a hand on Snape's shoulder.

Once, Severus would have responded in wrath against an action of comfort like that.

"I know. But we need to know. It's always better to know. And only you can find this out for us. None of the rest of us can do Legilemency. Not like you can."

Slowly, the trembling in his extremities began to subside.

Harry smiled, and walked into the room where the first Death Eater to be questioned was being woken up.

And after a moment, Severus followed.

' _I'm ready,'_ he thought, ' _to find out the worst this world has to offer.'_

And oh, how wrong he was.

 **AS ALWAYS: REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW.**


	3. Chapter 3--Another Stranger Me

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Chapter 3: Another stranger me

"God punishes us for what we can't imagine."-Stephen King—Duma Key.

* * *

 _2 May 2028_

 _Ginny Potter._

"He's got to have been at it for at least an hour." Her Harry said, sounding worried.

Other Harry just snorted. "Severus knows what he's doing. If there's any problem, he'd let us know."

"Are you-"

"I'm sure," Other Harry said flatly, and Ginny couldn't help but hate him for the way he brushed them all off like that. Like no one's opinion but his mattered.

She glanced over at Snape. He was still sitting there, staring into Crabbe's eyes.

As he had been for the last hour.

He'd gone through the minds of the other two first. He hadn't spent nearly as long on either of them, maybe twenty minutes to half an hour each.

And he'd refused to talk about what he'd seen, only saying that he'd give a full report once he'd finished with all three of them.

But after each viewing, he was looking more and more haggard and worn.

The Hermiones and Ron were speaking to the muggles, trying to comfort them and find out as much as they could about this world.

Ginny had stayed with them at first. But she'd found it far too heart-breaking.

Only one of the muggles hadn't been born in captivity. The rest had been bred according to their master's wishes.

Their owner's wishes.

She'd left the room and joined her husband after one of them had started begging to be returned to Master Selwyn.

She shook the thoughts away as the other Harry spoke.

"Trust me. He gives classes occasionally, to my squad. He knows this stuff like no one else does."

"To your squad?" She asked, "Not to you?"

"No. I really, really suck at it. There's some innate talent involved. Oh, everyone can do it. But to do it properly, to be able to find order in the madness of someone's mind, that takes talent. Not so rare, actually. Just that most people don't develop it. So I make sure to have at least one person in every sub-squad who can do it well."

Once he had finished talking, he made as if to turn back to watching Snape.

Her Harry stopped him.

"We need to talk about what you did," he said, voice solid as iron, "when you attacked."

"I did exactly what I had to."

"You did. But did you really have to kill Selwyn? With a Killing Curse?"

Other Harry's upper lip rose in a sneer.

"What, you think I should have let him live?"

"No, but you shouldn't throw around the Killing Curse like it's candy! For god's sake, don't you care about what it'll do to you? It's Unforgivable for a reason!"

"Fucking Aurors," other Harry snarled, suddenly appearing as dangerous as he had in Selwyn's shop, "always acting like you know everything! I know what it can do to me! I know the dangers far better than you, I promise you that. What, you've never used a little of the Dark Arts to get the job done?"

"Not when I didn't have to," Harry said, standing up to the outburst without an ounce of fear showing, "not when I had other options. I like to think I'm better than that."

"The Dark Arts are a tool. That's all. A dangerous tool. Not some inherently evil branch of magic. How the fuck did you even manage to kill Vol-You-Know-Who?"

"Just a tool?" She found herself saying. "Not evil? Can you even hear yourself? How many Dark spells are there that don't hurt people? That can do anything besides hurting people?"

He flushed, hand twitching.

"And I killed You-Know-Who without losing myself in the process," Harry said, "And it's sad to see that you couldn't have also."

Other Harry's eyes widened, and he took a step forward, gripping his wand tightly.

When he spoke, it was in a whisper that was somehow far scarier than his screaming had been.

"Yeah, you didn't lose yourself. You didn't. Just fucking say it already. You were good enough. You saved him. You're better than me, is that it? Cause I fucked up?"

No-one said anything.

After a few moments, other Harry turned his head to the side and wiped at his eyes, breathing heavily.

"Sorry," he muttered, "just-you don't know me, all right? Maybe I was once you, maybe I could have been you. But things didn't turn out that way for me. So just-don't fucking pity me, ok?"

"I won't. I don't. You did what you had to."

"I did. You don't know what it was like."

Abruptly, he shook his head and looked back at them.

"I used the Killing Curse because I'm used to it. Got used to it in the war. We needed to make the Death Eaters afraid. To let them know that just because we were the good guys didn't mean we'd go easy on them. And it worked. It's how we won, making them afraid. So I got used to it."

Harry opened his mouth, but the other one just waved a hand and continued.

"No, it's not ideal. I'll give you that. It's dangerous. Makes you feel angrier a lot more. But it can be controlled. And it's just too damn useful not to use."

Slowly, her Harry nodded his head, looking thoughtful.

She could remember once, Lupin shouting at him for letting Stan Shunpike live. Stan had been under the Imperius, and they were duelling in mid-air.

Lupin had said something about the time for mercy being over.

She'd been proud when Harry argued with him about that.

Now she wondered.

"We do have a few things to talk about, still," Harry said, "food, money. That type of thing."

"Yeah. I've got a few days rations, we could probably multiply it to make it last for us all for three to four days. I've also got fifty Galleons, which could work unless they changed the currency."

Harry and Ginny just stared at him.

He smiled weakly and reached into one of his pockets, pulling out a small bag.

"Extension Charms, of course. It's standard, in case we get in trouble on an assignment. Spare badge, emergency portkey, three days rations, and fifty Galleons."

He started rooting through it, mumbling to himself.

"I'm sure I had a few teabags in here."

"Have you tried the portkey yet?"

He didn't look up from the bag.

"Nope. I seriously doubt it'd go back to my world. And if it works here, it'll take me right to the Ministry. Not a chance I'm trying that."

"Probably a good idea."

Other Harry pulled his hand out of the bag, a smile spreading across his face.

"Teabags! Hope they're not too stale, but better than nothing, right?"

And as much as she was annoyed with and scared of him, at that moment Ginny loved him.

Before she could say anything though, Snape gasped loudly.

The all spun to face him.

He blanched as he saw Harry, and looked like he was fighting the urge to vomit.

Then he looked at Ginny and his face went even whiter, as pale as fresh snow.

And then he did vomit.

He leaned over his sick for a few moments before waving his wand and vanishing it.

"I will not examine that creature's mind again. It was like swimming through sewage."

"Severus, what-"

"Not yet. I need time. Gather the others. Give me a few minutes to compose myself."

Harry squeezed her hand and slipped out of the room.

She wanted to follow him.

But she wanted to know why looking at her had made Snape vomit.

"Severus, are you-"other Harry tried, but Snape cut him off.

"Don't give me sympathy. Leave me. Come back in a bit."

"I-"

Snape looked up then, and Ginny took a step back, her hand rising to her chest.

He looked like a man who had been through literal hell, and who had experienced its fires first-hand. His eyes were full of pained fury, and his face was whiter than she would have thought possible.

"This world is an abomination," he said, his lip trembling and eyebrows twitching, "and one we need to get out of immediately."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

Harry massaged his forehead.

"Again. Identifications."

"Definitely Snape," Blaise said, pacing around the room. "You can see the differences, but they're minor. Our Snape has a bit more weight to him, his face is a bit fuller."

"Who else?"

"There's...well, you. Two of them. But they look...different. Like you did back in school, just older. One was much more involved in the fighting, he seemed to be giving orders."

He grimaced, putting his glasses back on and looking up again.

The Pensieve sat on the desk directly in the centre of the room. Blaise's memories of the fight were being projected up into the air, closely watched by Bellona and Daphne.

"Two Hermione Grangers. I wasn't too sure about them, but the one version of you called her Hermione, and they both responded. And they do kind of look like I remember her."

He focused on the two gingers in the memory, the balding man and the pretty woman.

They were struggling along with one of the Grangers, trying to remove the muggles' chains.

"And Weasleys. The girl and the one our age, Ron."

"And you're certain they came from two separate worlds?" He asked, looking at Rookwood.

Rookwood shifted uncomfortably, his pockmarked face still completely blank.

"As certain as we can be. You need to understand, until Zabini came in, I had no idea what the results of the device's activation would be. We've been studying it for months and we've still barely scratched its surface."

Harry kept his gaze focused on the man. He sighed and continued.

"We haven't had much time to examine it now, but we think it's showing interaction with two separate worlds. Some of the runes...suffice it to say, we have good reason to believe so. And the doubling of some of the intruders only corroborates our theory."

"And yet," Harry said, fighting to keep the growl out of his voice, "you have no idea about anything that's happened in these worlds?"

"Correct."

He snarled, turning around to face the window.

Fucking Unspeakables. They just had to mess around with the very fabric of reality.

And now it was Harry who was left to clean up their mess.

"And you didn't think this through beforehand? You know, that you could be bringing highly trained hostiles who could damage our world?"

"It seemed an unlikely possibility, especially with our level of preparation for threats."

Harry spun back around, making Rookwood momentarily cringe at the sudden movement.

Harry's temper was legendary.

"LEVEL OF PREPARATION?" He roared, hand jerking unconsciously toward his wand, "WE WEREN'T FUCKING PREPARED AT ALL! FIVE OF MY MEN DEAD! THREE CAPTURED! THEY FREED A BUNCH OF FUCKING MUGGLES IN BROAD DAYLIGHT, KILLED SELWYN AND BURNT DOWN HIS FUCKING STORE! IN BROAD DAYLIGHT! DOZENS OF FUCKING WITNESSES! WHAT DO YOU THINK THAT'LL DO FOR OUR REPUTATION?!"

"We were simply doing as the Dark Lord commanded," Rookwood said, in a pleading tone, "He wanted us to experiment with the device!"

"YES, BUT HE DIDN'T TELL YOU TO KEEP IT A SECRET! YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME! YOU KNOW, JUST A POLITE WARNING, THAT YOU MIGHT BE BRINGING IN PEOPLE FROM ALTERNATE WORLDS AND THAT WE SHOULD BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR THESE TWATS! FUCKING FUCK!"

He spun around again, facing away from Rookwood.

"Redirect all non-essential personnel. I want them all working on this thing."

"We-"

"Fucked up Rookwood. Do I really need to spell it out for you? Everyone whose work is not absolutely essential is now working on this cunting thing. I want people studying it twenty-four seven. I want a full report by tonight. And I want you to tell me if there's any way at all that these assholes could have been planning it."

"The intruders?"

"No, the muggles. Of course the fucking intruders! Were they planning this? Is this an attack from their worlds?"

"I doubt that very much. Unless they had some way of manipulating me. The device only activated once I performed an experiment, and even that was in accord with our previous theories."

Harry wanted to scream and yell and torture until his heart stopped racing.

He breathed deeply, slowly.

"Any chance there's more of them? That this wasn't all?"

"At this juncture, I have no way of telling. Maybe with further study we'll understand more, but right now I simply don't know enough to be able to answer that."

Harry growled under his breath, curling his hands into fists.

"I would guess that there are no others though. Think about it. They were just transported to another world. Would they split up or stay together? And if there are others, surely we will hear about it."

"Fine. So they, what, probably want to get home? Do whatever you can to bolster the security on the device. And get moving. I want that report, and I want Damien or Cyrus ready to go report to the Emperor in a week."

"If I've got to do it, I will," Damien said, "but I want to make sure I've got control of those brooms first."

"Do it. As of now, you've been removed from active duty. Focus on that. Go with Rookwood now, pick up Cyrus on the way, and start the processes."

Rookwood and Damien left in silence.

"Blaise, Daph, Bella. Threat reports."

"I'd say, this version of you," Bella said, pointing at the one who had done most of the fighting, "then their Snape, then these two. Not sure about the other three, they weren't really fighting, but probably safe to assume they're dangerous."

"That you is the biggest threat," Blaise agreed, scowling toward the small ghostly image, "he was leading them. And watch, he's got lots of training and experience. I think even you might find him to be challenging."

In the memory, that Harry spun, wand flashing as it blew apart Riker's skull.

"Bella's right. That other Granger and those Weasleys, they seem more like followers. They ran to the muggles immediately and started freeing them. They must have some talent, between them. They managed to keep most of the muggles alive after all."

"That mudblood was always too smart for her own good," he muttered, rubbing his forehead again, "and now we've got two of her. And two of me. Weak versions, but still me."

"I wouldn't exactly call them weak," Blaise said, "not nearly. Even the less dangerous one was still facing down my men easily."

"Not weak in that way. Muggle-loving bastards. They're not me. They couldn't have been me."

He closed his eyes for a second, absentmindedly running his fingers along the scar across his cheek.

"Blaise, go fetch me Snape. Confirm it's him. And then Alex. And send Helga in."

"Snape..."

"Should be at Hogwarts. If he isn't, he'll be at home."

"And if it isn't him?"

"Then get the fuck out of there."

He met Blaise's eyes.

He could see the hints of fear in them.

Still, Blaise nodded sharply and left.

Helga walked in before the door even closed.

"Helga, get me Draco again. Tell him it's urgent. Tell him a situation's come up, and everything else can be put aside for now."

"Just Draco? Anyone else, sir?

"No one else. Blaise is bringing the others. When they arrive, do identity checks. For everyone, Blaise included. And make sure they knock before coming in."

She strode out.

Harry waited till the door was closed before checking that all the privacy charms were still up, and then sitting down again.

"So, we've got two other versions of me running around. And neither of them have Horcruxes."

"Weak," Daphne said, nodding to him.

"Weak," he repeated, "but still dangerous. Very dangerous. I think it's safe to say that whatever happened in their worlds, they do not follow the Dark Lord."

Bellona snorted.

"As if they're a threat to Him. He could take them with His arms tied behind His back."

"Definitely. But they could be a huge asset to the rebels. And we have no clue who the fucking spy is."

"And there's no way we'll be able to keep this quiet, is there?" Daphne asked.

"No. We're gonna need everyone on the lookout. I'm gonna get posters made, just of the Grangers and Weasleys. A reward offered. Get Alex to have all his scum looking for them, have all the military on the watch. Even if no one knows exactly what their story is, they'll still know that they're dangerous."

"So basically what you're saying is, we need to catch them as quickly as possible. Exactly what we're planning on doing anyway."

He shook his head.

"More than that. We can't let it get out, that they came from another world. Fuck, that sounds retarded. Like bad fiction. But we can't let people find out. And once we catch them, we need to make sure that it's only trustworthy people interrogating them."

"Primarily us, you mean?" Daphne asked.

"Exactly. Us, Blaise, Carter, Cyrus, if he doesn't end up going to the Dark Lord. I don't know how many more we could trust for this."

"We need to catch them first," Bellona said, "not to take the winds out of your sails, but it's quite an important part of this whole plan."

"We'll catch them all right," Harry said, an ugly grin spreading across his face, "we'll have everyone even halfway associated with us on the lookout, plus the reward. We'll fucking catch them."

* * *

 _Ginny Potter_

"This world, it's terrible," Snape said with a shiver, "I can't stress that enough. The most despicable crimes the Death Eaters ever committed in our world have become commonplace here, even seen as boring."

"But what about us?" The other Harry said with a snarl. "What's with our counterparts here?"

Ginny watched Snape carefully, a part of her not wanting to hear the answer.

They'd all gathered to hear his report, Hermione and Ron having taken a few minutes to calm down after speaking to the muggles.

They sat on conjured chairs in the wreckage of another version of Hermione and Ron's living room. Other Harry paced restlessly, but the rest of them sat in a semicircle around Snape.

"I-I'm getting there. In this world, the Dark Lord returned earlier. At the end of your fourth year in Hogwarts, he announced his return."

"That's not so different-"

"Announced his return, Weasley," Snape said, giving Ron a glare. "He'd already been back for a while beforehand. Long enough that on the same night as he attacked the Ministry in London, bands of his supporters erupted all over Europe. He had been back long enough to drum up that support and plan it out perfectly. He caught everyone unawares."

"How?" One of the Hermiones whispered, breaking the stunned silence.

"None of them knew for sure. Perhaps he managed to get the Philosopher's Stone here. It doesn't matter how. What matters is that the Dark Lord rules the world. Not Britain. Not Europe. The entire fucking world."

"That can't be," Hermione said weakly, "it just can't! In our world, he barely made any inroads into the rest of Europe, never mind the United States-"

"In this world, he did. It seems that Africa as a whole presented a united front, but even they eventually fell to his armies. The Dark Lord was victorious here. Totally and utterly."

"What about me?" Harry demanded, as his counterpart shouted: "what happened to me here?"

Snape locked eyes with the other Harry, his face still deathly pale. "In this world, you did not fight against the Dark Lord. You joined him. And you remain his most loyal, most trustworthy and fanatic follower."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

Draco rubbed the stubble lining his chin, looking to be deep in thought.

"It's short notice," he finally said, "but we should be able to do forty thousand. I'd have to check with Ian, but I'm pretty certain we could manage that."

"Forty thousand's all we need for now," Harry said, looking down at his desk. It was lined with posters, each bearing the picture and description of one of the Hermione Grangers and one of the Weasleys. The pictures were grainy and unclear, but it was the best they could do with nothing more than memories.

"Forty thousand's all we need," he repeated, "we don't want people to start looking at Snape or at me."

"You said that these other versions of you, that they don't look like..." Draco trailed off, ending up simply waving a hand at Harry's face.

"Not quite," Harry said, ignoring Bellona's snicker, "but they look similar enough that people could get confused. And enough that I want the bank's security to be aware."

"Of course. But do you honestly think they'll try?"

"Not if they're smart. But they're gonna need money, and they're gonna need supplies. And they've already attacked my men. They don't seem to be all that smart."

* * *

 _Ginny Potter._

"That's not possible," Harry said, his voice weaker than she'd ever heard it before, "it can't be. He-he killed my parents. No matter what, I'd never have joined him. Never."

She reached out without even thinking about it, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze.

He didn't even react, just continued staring at Snape.

The other Harry as well was standing there slack-jawed, his pacing interrupted.

"It is. I would never have believed it if I hadn't seen the memories myself. As insane as it sounds, somehow, you ended up serving him in this world."

"There's got to-you've-something must be confused," Harry said, as if begging Snape, "there must be-"

"Crabbe has many, many memories of you. In this world, your murder of Albus Dumbledore was a turning point in the war, a destruction of the Ministry's morale, and-"

"It must be like that," other Harry said, smiling, "The me here, he must have taken your place, become a spy, and-"

"No."

"Don't no me-"

"IF YOU SAW THE THINGS I DID-"Snape shouted, before closing his eyes for a moment and breathing deeply.

He didn't open them before carrying on.

"I promise you, the Harry Potter here is truly a servant of the Dark Lord's. The things Crabbe and the others have witnessed him doing-he's a monster. A vile, evil, insane monster."

"You seemed like a monster," Ginny said, not even thinking, "you did. In our world, when you let the Carrows do what they wanted, when-"

"Crabbe personally witnessed the Potter here torturing people into insanity. Innocent people, simply because he found it fun. In this world, Bellatrix Lestrange did not kill Sirius Black. No, here, Harry Potter did. I saw through Crabbe's memories as this Potter murdered family members of those who rebelled against the Dark Lord. I saw-"

His eyes flickered to Ginny for a moment, and he paled even further.

 _'What did you see? What happened to me?'_

The other Harry sat down suddenly, falling into his chair. The Hermione next to him put her arms around his shoulders and whispered something.

"How?" Harry whispered, his hand limp and lifeless in hers, "how could I-could I possibly become something like that?"

Snape shook his head.

"I don't know exactly. But your upbringing was different in this world. Here, Petunia did not raise you. She and her husband sent you to live in an orphanage. One where you were treated terribly."

"So the moral of the story is that orphanages turn people into monsters," Ron said, not missing a beat.

Ginny felt a small smile twisting her lips, but the joke fell flat. It felt as if Ron was trying to force some humour into a terrible situation.

She squeezed Harry's hand again, and this time, he squeezed back.

"Apparently," Snape continued, "but that was not the only thing. Crabbe knows the Potter here quite well. In this world, he was sorted into Slytherin. And became very close friends with Draco Malfoy. Doubtless, the Dark Lord used that."

"Fucking hell," Harry whispered, "Bloody fucking hell."

"What about the-the rest of us? What happened to us here?"

Snape didn't even look at her.

"None of you survived."

"How?" One of the Hermiones whispered. Ginny couldn't tell which one. She didn't dare look away from Snape.

"Apparently, the Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley of this world were caught in Azkaban, along with Neville Longbottom. The Dark Lord had set a trap for them. And...the Harry Potter here, he was the one to kill Ron Weasley. Crabbe remembers him crowing about it for weeks."

Ron's face fell slack.

The other Harry looked like he was about to be sick. Ginny only saw it out of the corner of her eye.

Something in her innards seemed to clench up, a bubbling pit of hysteria rising.

"What happened to me?" She called shrilly.

Finally, Snape looked at her.

"You died."

"How?" she demanded, needing to know, hoping he wouldn't say.

"It doesn't matter," Snape said, turning back to the others, "we-"

"It matters! It matters! I want to know!"

"I assure you, you do not."

It was threatening to take control of her, this rising panic. What could have possibly been so bad?

"I want to know! Tell me!"

His face showed no emotion when he glanced at her again, but he seemed gaunter than he had a moment before.

"You don't-"

"TELL ME!"

"In this world, Dumbledore freed Grindelwald," Snape said, his words clipped and rushed, "and after Dumbledore's death, he became the Dark Lord's greatest threat. Your brothers, the twins, they followed him fanatically. The Dark Lord became obsessed with separating them from him, certain that it would bring about his victory."

No one said a word. An idle part of Ginny's mind wondered if they were feeling as she was like they were dreaming.

Like they were in a nightmare from which they would never wake.

"And so, the rest of your family was killed. You were taken captive, to be used as bait. And so they tortured the Ginny Weasley here mercilessly."

Snape's throat worked like he was going to vomit again.

"The things Potter did to her-I don't think even Bellatrix ever stooped so low. Sickening. Depraved. And after the war, he gave her to Crabbe as a reward. Once Crabbe became bored, he killed her. And she was grateful."

Everything went grey for a second as if she was going to pass out. She bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood.

Colour swam back into the world, as Harry put his arm around her and pulled her close, whispering something soothing.

The words flowed over her head, passing through her mind without being registered.

She closed her eyes, feeling the burning stares of everyone in the room.

 _'It wasn't me,'_ she thought, breathing deeply, forcing the hysterical panic to subside, _'it wasn't me, and it wasn't Harry. It wasn't!'_

"We kill him," the other Harry said, "that's what we have to do."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

Snape was still completely silent. It was starting to worry Harry, the way the man just sat there, staring fixedly at the Pensieve memory.

"Snape? What can you tell me?"

Snape just held a hand up, not even turning his head an inch.

His patience starting to grow thin, Harry waited.

After a few minutes, Snape tapped the Pensieve with his wand and turned to him.

"It's me. Undoubtedly. The spells he used, the way he fought and moved. It's certainly me. But he doesn't have the Dark Mark."

"He doesn't?"

Snape simply gestured to the image floating above the Pensieve.

There, in the midst of the fight, the other Snape stood. He was in the middle of spinning around, and his sleeve had pulled back, revealing his bare arm.

And it was pure, unmarked flesh.

"Somehow," Snape said, sounding distinctly displeased, "the Dark Lord must have lost. Either He never came to power and so I never joined Him, or He died. If the Mark is truly tied to Him, it would have faded entirely. After He...vanished, in 1981, the Mark become far more indistinct. But it never disappeared entirely."

Harry went entirely still, his thoughts racing.

 _'They could only have killed the Dark Lord if they first destroyed His Horcruxes. But there are two versions of me there. They can't have destroyed them, not if they're alive.'_

"I suspect, however," Snape continued, heedless of the flurry of thoughts going on in Harry's mind, "that they somehow defeated Him. Look, as Zabini and the others entered the shop. They didn't notice it then, but these people, they were shocked. And staring at the Marks."

 _'Unless they found some way to kill someone even with Horcruxes. Fucking impossible. But what else could it be? Oh, fucking hell.'_

It was beginning to dawn on Harry that these intruders could be far more dangerous than he had thought.

* * *

 _Hermione Weasley._

"I don't think you quite understand the situation here," Snape said, his voice sharp as a knife, "we cannot fight-"

"We can't just leave this place like this, are you out of-"

"The version of you in this world bears a striking physical resemblance to the Dark Lord."

The non-sequitur fell like an anvil, crushing other Harry's attempts to speak.

Before Snape could continue, though, her mind processed what he must have meant.

She gasped, throwing a hand up to her mouth.

"Not just him, but his wife and children as well. In Crabbe's memories, the progression of changes is very clear. And it leads me to conclude that he underwent the same rituals the Dark Lord did."

"You think I-he-he made Horcruxes?" Harry asked weakly, looking disgusted.

Snape nodded.

"There are still ways to deal with that," other Harry said stubbornly. "Total Obliviation, or a coma and a Statis Charm then off to the Marianas Trench. We could-"

"Arrogant fool! Listen to me for once! This is like nothing you have faced before! This is not some warlock with a small following, this is the entire world allied against you! The entire world!"

The other Harry stood up suddenly, red-faced and shaking.

"What do you think we should do, huh? How the fuck do you even think we're getting home? Just gonna waltz into the Department and ask? Who should we kill to do it?"

A thick vein throbbed in Snape's forehead, but he seemed to have no answer.

"We're going to need to fight our way out," the other Harry continued, "and I say we make sure we leave this world a better place than it is. For fuck's sake, think about what they're doing!"

"It's terrible, there's no arguing about that," she said, gripping Ron's hand tight as if to pull strength from him, "but you have to be realistic!"

"What we have to do," he said, glaring at her, "is find whoever still stands against V-You-Know-Who, and join them! We need to fight!"

"No."

Harry spoke quietly, but it had as much force behind it as his alternate's rage did.

"You-"

"Listen to me," Harry said, "if you start fighting them, just like this, you are going to get us all killed. Or worse."

She couldn't keep her eyes from darting to Ginny. Ginny blushed, but stood up next to her husband and nodded.

"If they really-really do have total control here, we're gonna have a hard enough time just getting out. I agree that we should do something for the people in this world. But if you just attack, without knowing more, without more planning, we are all going to die. And I'm not going to leave my children like that, with them wondering what happened to us for the rest of their lives."

The other Harry took a step forward, putting himself an inch away from Harry.

Stealthily, she drew her wand.

"And what do you say we do?" He said sardonically, "hide out here till we can't multiply the food anymore? Go scavenge? I know! We can attack the Department of Mysteries, I'm sure they're not expecting us to try something like that."

"You had a good idea before," Harry said calmly, "we get in touch with whoever is still fighting the Death Eaters. But we don't lose sight of our goal. Our goal is to get home, and take as many people with us as want to escape."

"And you're fine with that?" The other Harry whispered, soft enough that she almost had to strain to hear, "leaving a Harry Potter who serves him alive? A Harry Potter who killed Ron? Who killed Sirius?"

"I hate it," Harry said just as softly, "but it's not the most important thing right now. If it was possible for us to win, I'd agree. But there's seven of us. Seven, against armies. We can't beat those odds. So I choose to save our lives, and to protect our families' happiness as much as I can."

"Some things are secondary, Harry," the other version of her said.

She glanced over and saw her putting her wand away.

 _'I think we're the ones that changed the least.'_

"It's terrible, but it's true. We have to accept the things we can't do."

Other Harry stood there for a moment, nostrils flaring.

Then he deflated, seeming to shrink in on himself, and collapsed back into his chair.

"Snape," Harry called, "does Crabbe know anything about any rebels? Anyone still fighting?"

Snape sighed, and very slowly, nodded his head.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

Alex was trying not to show it, but he was terrified.

To be fair though, he had good reason to be terrified of Harry.

"Every single one them, Alex. You've got, what, a hundred and fifty now?"

"S-something like th-that." He stammered, his empty left sleeve running over Harry's desk as he shook.

"I want every one of them on the lookout. Not doing anything else. None of your bullshit schemes, just watching."

"I-I don't know if I can-can contact e-everyone on such short notice, s-sir."

Harry leaned forward, staring deeply into Alex's eyes.

Bellona began to giggle in the background.

"Do you know why we let you go, Alex? Why we stopped at one arm?"

Struck mute with fear, he shook his head.

"Because you're nothing. Your stupid little moneymaking schemes aren't a real problem, your little import-export business isn't a real threat. I have here," Harry lifted a scroll up and waved it in Alex's face.

"A list, of all one hundred and fifty-six of your men. Including aliases and addresses. One sentence, Alex. One sentence, and I'll have them all arrested. And we'll have to have another discussion with you. Bella, how long did the last one go for?"

"I think it was a week? Or two?" She answered, making Alex's terrified face whip around to her.

"Two weeks for one little arm. Imagine how long it would take if we took care of the rest of you as well."

"I-I'll-"

"You and your men," Harry said, overriding the stuttered attempts at speech, "are cockroaches. But cockroaches can get into holes that real people can't."

Bellona giggled again.

"As long as you're a useful cockroach, I won't have to break you further. I won't have to kill every single fucking one of your men. As long as you're all useful."

"I'll get them all on it!" he squeaked, "by tonight! I swear!"

"Good. See that you do. Because I'll know if you don't. Now get the fuck out of my office, you worthless little shit."

He ran out.

"Did you really have to let him go?" Bellona asked indignantly.

"Yes, dear. I did."

He looked over at her scowling face.

"That reminds me, actually. I want to talk to you about something."

Her face went entirely unreadable.

He sighed.

"But not right now. Too much going on. Let's try and have some time to chat when things aren't so hectic, shall we?"

She inclined her head a fraction of an inch.

"Great," he said, trying to sound happy and enthusiastic. "Do you mind checking on your mother's progress for me?"

Without saying a word, she left the room, all evidence of her former jubilance gone.

 _'Fanfuckingtastic,'_ he thought, _'now I've got a sullen psychopath to deal with.'_

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32._

"There are still some who haven't accepted the Dark Lord's rule," Severus said reluctantly, "apparently, they've been far more problematic than usual lately. But they are clearly not a powerful force."

"Do you know who any of them are?" He asked.

"No. They recently captured one of them, one Martin Gilfried. But he died during questioning."

"Is there anyone," he asked, almost desperately, "anyone at all that we know from our world who isn't dead or a fucking lunatic here?"

"Luna Lovegood."

Harry felt like hitting his head. He hadn't even thought of Luna.

"What-what does Crabbe know about her?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"That Director Potter has a soft spot for her. That even though she was once caught buying muggles and releasing them into the wild, he personally intervened to prevent her from being punished."

"Director Potter?" His alternate asked with a curled lip.

"In this world, the Death Eaters are not merely the Dark Lord's followers. They are his private police force, charged with preventing treason and rebellion. And Harry Potter is in charge of them."

He wanted to vomit. Even though he wasn't showing it, this news was shaking him even more than seeing Ron alive had.

To find out that he wasn't innately a good person, that he could have turned out to be this disgusting thing that he apparently was in this world.

He couldn't dwell on it, no more than he could dwell on the alternate before him. No more than he could dwell on the fact that really, he could have saved Ron. That he could have been...happier. A better person. That his hands wouldn't have been drenched in oceans of blood and his ears wouldn't constantly be ringing with the screams of his enemies.

That Hermione would have been happier with Ron.

He managed to snap himself out of his thoughts as Snape continued.

"The Luna Lovegood here-she is our best bet. Even if she has nothing to do with the rebels, she clearly shares their ideology. She could help us if she proves willing."

Harry nodded, trying to think clearly.

Unable to completely move past the fact that he could easily have become a monster.

"What about you?" Ginny asked.

He'd loved her, once. Or at least thought he had. But she would never have been able to relate to the man the war had forced him to become.

And oh, but it burned like acid in his gut, to see that he could have ended up with her.

If only he had been better.

"Me?" Severus asked.

"Yeah," Ron said, making Harry flinch.

Damnit, but he thought he had that under control.

"You told us that the rest of us died and that Harry's...You-Know-Who two point oh. So what happened to you here?"

Severus closed his eyes, looking miserable.

"In this world," he said, "I serve the Dark Lord. My alternate here, he teaches at Hogwarts, and assists in training the Death Eaters."

"Could it be that-"

"No. He-isn't as bad as the others, as the Potter here is, but he is clearly completely on the Dark Lord's side. In truth, not just in name."

An awkward silence descended on them, suffocatingly heavy.

"So," Harry said brightly. "I guess we're going to visit Luna."

"At least she'd be willing to accept an idea like visitors from another dimension," Ron said.

Harry forced a chuckle out and rubbed his hands together briskly.

"Ok. Sev, where's she live? Do you know?"

"The same as in our world. And no doubt, theirs as well. She lives in the Rookery."

"So, let's go."

"No."

He turned to face his alternate again, hackles rising.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he growled, "are you so bent out of shape about being in charge that you have to oppose everything I fucking say?"

"I just meant-"

The other him swallowed and closed his eyes for a second before starting again in a more even tone.

"I just meant that we should rather go in the morning, that's all. I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. I think we all are. And tired people make mistakes."

"And that just gives them more time to find us, to track our apparition."

His Auror self shook his head.

"Mate, we're in an Unplottable building under the Fidelius. If they manage to track our apparition, it'll show the general neighbourhood at most, if that. I'd be more worried about leading them to Luna's door."

That was a worry and one that hadn't occurred to him.

His other self was making some sense, but he still wanted to go now. To at least prove that he was still making the right decisions, that he wasn't less than the other him.

But he looked around and noticed the signs of fatigue in everyone's faces.

 _'I should have noticed that earlier. If I hadn't been so caught up in the emotional aspect of this, I would have.'_

"You're right," he said swallowing the bile that wanted to rise at the admittance.

"We go tomorrow. And we can't hang around at Luna for too long. It takes, what, an hour or so to track apparition?"

Both of the Hermiones nodded.

"So we need to plan for less than that. In and out in forty-five minutes."

"What about the muggles?" Hermione asked.

"We take them with us," other Harry said, at the same time as he said: "We leave them here."

They glared at each other for a moment.

"Look," his alternate said, "they'd slow us down in a fight. But we don't know whether we'll be coming back here or not. We can't know. What if Luna has somewhere better for us to stay?"

"And if it comes to a fight?" he asked.

"We disillusion them before we go. We'll be Apparating close enough to Luna's house, anyways. Not that much chance of a fight breaking out, is there?"

"But if it does happen, they'll be less than useless. We'll have to protect them."

Someone cleared their throat, outside of the circle of chairs.

Harry spun, his wand rising.

To her credit, the woman standing there didn't even flinch.

It was one of the sisters, the one who'd been flirting with the crowd during the auction.

All of them just stared at her as she walked forward, into the circle.

"You are the leader, yes?" She said to Harry.

Her voice carried a hint of exotic spices and dripped with seduction.

"I-uh, maybe, not really?" He said, thrown totally off of his stride.

"I heard your talk, and I have an offer to make."

"You don't need to-"

"I give myself to you, to do with as you wish."

She dropped to her knees before him, shrugging her grey robe off of one beautifully shaped shoulder.

He could all but hear Hermione's sniggers.

"I know," she continued, "that many of your kind find pleasure in causing pain. I will serve you in that way if that is your wish. All I ask is that you protect my sister. That you take her with you when you leave this world."

"I-"

"Do with me as you wish," she said, her voice rising to a crescendo, "but please, if you are truly more humane than the rest of your kind, protect my sister! You are not from this world, I heard you! So perhaps, you can still feel!"

Harry could feel everyone's eyes on him.

"We're going to do the best we can to protect all of you," he said gruffly, speaking through a thickness in his throat, "and to take all of you with us when we leave."

"If it comes to a choice," she said, staring up at him, "please, choose her over me."

"I-"

"She still retains some innocence. I do not. So use me as you will, and as payment, save my sister. Save Faizah."

"I-I-I will. Save her. Not use you. I-I'm married. I don't-"

She looked honestly confused at that.

"So you are married? Our last owner was as well."

He coughed, looking away and feeling his cheeks burn.

"Please tell the others to be ready to leave in the morning. Bright and early."

Slowly, she rose to her feet.

"Perhaps," she whispered, "you are not all monsters."

They watched her leave in silence.

"So," He said, trying to pretend that the last five minutes hadn't happened, "we'll go in the morning. Let's try to wake up with the sunrise if we can."

"And the Death Eaters?" Ginny asked.

"We kill them."

His alternate nodded, and he gave him a small smile.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

"Any news?" He demanded, the instant Daphne walked back into the room.

"They managed to track the apparition. But not totally. They went into one of the muggle neighbourhoods, one that hasn't been cleared yet. But we can't narrow it down. It seems that they've got some strong enchantments and wards up, maybe even a Fidelius."

He growled softly, biting his lip.

"But it definitely leads into that neighbourhood. So we're watching for any apparition in and out of there. I've ordered people to be stationed around it, but not inside. Don't want to confuse the trackers."

"No," he said, "that would be frustrating. Thanks, Daph. Any news from the Taboo?"

She shook her head.

"But if they've got our men, we have to assume that they got information from them. So we have to assume that they know about the Taboo."

He spared half a moment to think of Crabbe, no doubt dead by now.

"We'll catch them," she said, "we've got thousands of people looking out for them, we've got the pictures and the reward in the papers already, and we'll know it once they Apparate. We'll catch them."

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	4. Chapter 4--Break on Through

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Chapter 4–Break on through

"Are these the voices

of our dead friends or

just the gramophone?"—George Seferis.

* * *

 _3 May 2028_

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror._

It took Harry a few minutes to remember where he was, once he woke up.

He and Ginny had spread out the night before, moving along with some of the muggles to the apartment adjacent to the one where they'd arrived in.

The beds were serviceable, for all that he'd been half-asleep when he'd transfigured them.

He woke up to the changing light outside, the beginning of sunrise lighting up the room.

He'd been too tired to fix the hole where a window had once been, and Ginny had been too busy helping the muggles out.

At least it wasn't too cold out.

He sat up slowly, cracking his back and stretching his arms.

And then he gasped, as he took in the sight of the room and the events of the previous day streamed through his mind.

His startled noise woke up Ginny.

She turned her face toward him and sleepily said: "Harry? Is everything all right, love?"

He didn't reply, too busy trying to make sense of everything he'd experienced and learned the previous day.

When he didn't answer, she rolled over and rubbed at her eyes.

"Harry? What's going on? Where-oh, fuck!"

"Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah."

Before they could get any further in conversation, a loud knocking sounded at their door.

Harry lurched to the side, grabbing his wand from next to the bed.

"Hello?" He called out uncertainly.

"Excellent, you're awake," his own voice answered from the other side of the door, "can you guys be ready to leave in half an hour or so?"

He glanced over at Ginny, who nodded.

"Yeah, we'll be ready."

"Great. Great. We'll meet in the apartment we arrived in, leave from there. See you."

Harry flopped back onto the bed, his heart pounding.

"He sounds chipper."

"What are you gonna do about him?" Ginny asked softly.

He sighed. "No idea. He's not...stable. I think it's making it harder for him, seeing how well things turned out for us. But I can't just let him take over."

"And you can't just fight him either."

"No way. He's-"

Harry swallowed, images from the fight in the slave auction running through his mind.

"He's better than me, Ginny, and that's a fact. But even if he wasn't, I wouldn't want to fight him, to fracture this group. Our best chance of getting home is if we're all working together."

Ginny started crying softly, tears pouring down her face.

"Ginny, don't-don't cry. It's-we're going to be OK. We're-"

"I keep telling myself that it wasn't me," she blubbered, "and that it wasn't you. But it could have been! It could have been, and I don't-I don't know how to deal with that!"

Tears started welling up in his own eyes, making her face blur before him.

"And I don't want to start falling apart, but I'm scared of meeting him, I'm scared he'll look like you, I'm scared I won't be able to think of you the same way again."

He rubbed his face angrily and took her by the shoulders.

"Whatever happened here, it was about as different from the world we know as you can possibly get! I'm still convinced that Vol-You-Know-Who did something to change me. There's just-there's no way that I'd become a monster like that!"

He held her for a few minutes, and slowly, her tears started to abate.

"This other version of me, the one with us. I can see how he became like he is. Hell, I could picture myself going down the same road. But this monster? No way. Not naturally. I can't believe it."

She didn't say a word, just allowed him to hold her trembling body.

"You know what the last thought that went through my mind was?" he asked, "all those years ago, when I let him kill me?"

He waited a second before going on.

"It was you. I was willing to die to keep you safe. And I still would be."

She breathed in sharply at that, making a hissing noise as she did.

"I'm not planning on it," he hurriedly added, forestalling any comment, "I really don't want to, in fact. I meant what I said, love. I'm not here to save this world and everyone in it. I just want to get us home safely. That's all. I'll take everyone from here who wants to go, god knows we'll need their help, but I'm not fighting another damned war."

"If you do, you'll never stop having nightmares."

"I don't think we're gonna escape those," he said with a shudder. "I'm just glad the kids weren't with us."

She tightened her grip on him, her fingers squeezing into his back.

"Do you think they're ok?" She asked in a wavering voice, "Honestly? That they're not going crazy?"

"Ginny. They're fine. James is probably freaking out, but Cindy will be the mature one and find a way to keep him calm. I guarantee you, they'll end up staying at Ted's for a few days. Albus is probably with your mother or Scorpius, and ten to one Lily's with him. They're fine."

"Do you really think so? If I was them, and-"

"Ginny, please. Please. I just-I can't think about that now. I just can't. Not if I want to stay focused. It's hard enough as it is."

She shoved her face into his shoulder, crying again.

"I want to go home. I don't want to be in this fucking nightmare anymore!"

He held her tightly, tears finally breaking through his self-control, making trails down his cheeks.

"Same here, love. Same here."

* * *

 _Hermione Potter_

"Harry?" She asked hesitantly, "are you...feeling all right?"

He looked at her, and she knew just from his eyes that she was about to be blatantly lied to.

"As well as can be, I guess. It's a bit of a shock, all of this,"

"Understatement of the millennium," she muttered.

"But I'm fine," he continued. "This is just another shitty situation, and in a few days, we'll be home and laughing about it."

"Harry. Love. It's me. Be honest."

His eyes skittered away from her, dancing around the room.

She noticed his fingers curling into a fist and then spreading out, a nervous tic he'd never really managed to gain control of.

"I am," he said. "It's ok, Hermione. I'm fine."

"You've seemed a bit...aggressive," she said gently, "more than a bit. Are you really sure you're fine?"

His eyes landed on her. Suddenly, he seemed far weaker than he had a few seconds before.

He dropped into one of the chairs with a thump.

"It's all coming back, Hermione. All of it."

"What is?" She asked, still speaking in that same soft, soothing voice.

She'd learned how to do that, just as Harry had learned how to calm her down.

It was a necessity to learn such things, for those who wanted to survive in a sane world after fighting a war.

"All of it. Everything I felt after he died. All of the guilt, the self-loathing. All of the rage. It's all coming back."

He lashed out suddenly, denting the wall with a punch.

Dusty plaster rained down.

She didn't say anything. Let it out and you'll feel better, that's what she'd always believed.

"Seeing him, seeing that I could have fucking saved him, that I should have, that everything would have just been so much better. That _I_ would have been so much better. That you'd have been happier with him. How am I meant to do this? How am I fucking meant to fight and make decisions without losing control?"

He dropped his head into his hands and shook, mumbling disconnected words.

"Harry. There's nothing I can say that I haven't already said, a thousand times over. You can't blame yourself. You can't. Hell, even Ron, our Ron, even he didn't blame you!"

Harry didn't answer, but his mumbling did stop.

' _Good. At least he's listening this time.'_

"And maybe, if Ron would have lived, I'd have ended up with him. Maybe. Who knows what would have been? If you start thinking in maybes, you'll never get anywhere. Maybe if I hadn't broken up with Viktor...Maybe if I'd just let the Sorting Hat put me in Ravenclaw...maybe, maybe, maybe. Who the hell knows?"

"You'd have been happier with him," Harry said, still not looking up, "you would have."

"I don't think it's at all possible for me to be happier than I have for the last thirty years."

' _Liar_.'

She ignored that thought, flicking her head and continuing.

"I wish that Ron would have lived. But I wouldn't sacrifice this time we've had for anything."

But the voice in her head just repeated its spiteful word.

' _Liar_.'

Slowly, his shaking abated.

"I know all that," he said, finally looking up and revealing a tear streaked face, "but I don't feel it. I know it in my head. Not in my heart."

"Then all you can do is keep reminding yourself of what you know to be true."

"I just want to get-to get out of here. It's driving me mad, Hermione. It's-I can't keep in control. All the rage, the aggressiveness. It's all coming out."

"It always does, though," she said, hiding her anxious frustration, "whenever you have to fight and you're more emotional than usual, doesn't it?"

Harry laughed, giving off an absolutely humourless sound.

"Yeah. But usually, I can control it. Usually, I'm not in situations like this fucking mess! Everything about this is just shaking whatever control I have. I'm scared I'm gonna lose it, Hermione. If I lose control..."

Hermione shivered. She knew all too well what could happen if Harry went into an absolute rage.

She knew that she'd be safe, no matter what. The other travellers, they probably would be as well.

But Harry would do things he'd later regret.

"I'll be watching for that," she said, "I'll make sure that you don't. But you need to do whatever you can. The breathing exercises, the mind-clearing. Everything you can do."

"I will. As difficult as it is, I will. But I can't limit the spells I'm going to be using. I just can't, not in this type of situation."

She hesitated, biting back her denial.

He was right. As much as it would push him further toward losing control, he couldn't limit his repertoire. Not if they wanted to survive this.

"At least try avoiding the Unforgivables," she asked, managing to hold back from downright begging. "If there's any other option."

"I-I'll try. But you know what it's like."

That she did.

It was a not so well-known fact. The Unforgivables weren't punished so harshly just because of their results.

The more often one used them, the less in control of their emotions they became. It took time, and plenty of use, but slowly, they warped people, pushing them into a furious rage far more regularly, with often deadly results.

Worse, the more one used them, the easier it was to use them. At first, you needed to truly mean it, to actually feel a burning hatred or a terrible desire to inflict pain.

After a while, you needed nothing more than to say the words.

You'd still be feeling the same emotions, the rage, and loathing. You just wouldn't consciously experience them. But the feelings were still there, twisting your actions down terrible paths you'd otherwise never dare tread.

They'd only even learned this a few years after the war. By then, she'd taken a research position in the Department, and had no need for them.

Harry, on the other hand, was still occasionally forced to use them.

Oh, he'd learned to control his emotions, for the most part. It had been a major reason for him to go back to Severus and beg for Occlumency lessons.

Still, they affected him. Particularly when he was suffering from strong emotions in the first place.

She couldn't think of any situation that would bring up stronger emotions than the one they were currently in.

The problem still remained; Unforgivable or not, incredibly dangerous or not, they were too damn useful to reject out of hand.

"I know," she said softly, moving toward him, "but you'll do what you can. And I'll do what can. No one could expect more than that."

"I love you, Hermione. I'd be-I'd be totally lost without you."

"You think I'd manage without you?" She asked softly.

The voice in her head, though, had a definitive answer. And it wasn't one that would do Harry any good to hear.

' _Liar.'_

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32._

It was beyond strange, seeing Luna's house.

It was almost exactly the same as in Harry's world.

Three small signs, one announcing the residence of the Lovegood and Scamander family, one warning people to keep off of the Dirigible Plums, and one allowing people to pick their own mistletoe.

In his world, however, there had been a sign about the Quibbler.

Whatever else happened here, it appeared that Luna hadn't kept up her father's paper.

' _Of course, idiot. Voldemort wouldn't let there be any news that he wasn't controlling.'_

"Remind me again why we had to come so early?" Ron asked.

He managed to keep from wincing, managed to prevent any sign of the inner turmoil Ron's voice caused from showing on his face.

Interestingly enough, his counterpart answered before he could.

"Because there'll be fewer people around to spot us, and whoever they've got watching for Apparation or trying to track us is probably half asleep and not concentrating fully. It's our best chance."

"Does mean we'll be waking Luna up though," Ron answered, "and with so few people around, it makes us far more noticeable."

"Good thing we haven't seen anyone," Harry said. He kept his voice down, nevertheless.

There may not be anyone around, but in the countryside, voices carried far more than in the city. Particularly in the quiet hours of the day.

He hesitated in front of the door.

"Try to keep in mind, Harry," Severus said, "This is not our Luna. She may very well be frightened, particularly of the two of you and me."

"I know, I know. So we need to convince her as soon as possible. Then either bring her back to our place or wherever she suggests."

"It'll work," the other him said, sounding confident, "Luna will believe it if there's anyone who would."

Hermione gripped his hand and squeezed.

He breathed in deeply, holding it for a moment before exhaling with a sound like steam escaping a kettle.

"Here goes nothing." He muttered and rapped his knuckles sharply on the door a few times.

After a few minutes of waiting, he raised his hand to knock again.

And they heard Luna calling from inside the house.

"Just a minute. I'm on the way, hold on, please."

He steeled himself, trying not to crush Hermione's hand in his, as footsteps drew nearer to the door.

They heard a key turning and latch being pulled back.

The door opened, and Luna stood there.

She looked almost exactly the same as the Luna from Harry's world.

Her face was far more lined, and there was more grey in her hair, but she still had a sense of mistiness that Harry's Luna carried around with her.

They definitely had woken her up. Her hair was tousled from sleep, and she wore a nightgown with a copy of the Daily Prophet and her wand stuck through the belt.

She took one look at him and paled, her eyes widening.

"I'm not the Harry you know," he said quickly, almost desperately, "please, listen, we-"

Her eyes shot around the group and landed on Ginny.

With a small sigh, Luna fainted, falling into her house and landing on her back with a thud.

Another voice called from within the house.

"Luna? Who is it?"

' _Is that Rolf?'_

Before any of them could think of something to say, Rolf came into view.

"Luna!"

Rolf ran to her and fell to his knees, looking up at them with a pleading, terrified expression.

His gaze flitted between Severus and Harry as he spoke, barely seeming to even take any of the others in.

"Please-please-we-we haven't done anything wrong!"

"We didn't do anything! We didn't! Luna-She fainted from shock, and-"

"You!" Rolf cried, finally having paid enough attention to notice the rest of them. "You're-you're wanted!"

"Listen to me! We don't have lots of time, they might be tracking us!"

"Why did you come here then?!"

"We have nowhere else to go! This is going to sound insane, but I swear it's true. We came here from another world."

Rolf's jaw dropped, but he didn't laugh.

Instead, he looked over to the Hermiones, Ron, and Ginny.

"Luna was sure it was-it was you. She thought she-she thought that she was going mad. This is impossible. Impossible."

"Please," Harry said, "can we come in?"

Rolf's uncertainty was visible on his face. He looked over at Severus, Harry, and his alternate, his throat working as if he wanted to talk.

"We're not the Harry Potter you know," the other Harry said, "I swear it. In our worlds, we fought against You-Know-Who. We won. I swear."

Severus walked forward, pulling his left sleeve up.

"Look," he all but whispered, "no Mark. In our world, I was a spy against him. And the Mark vanished once he finally died."

"Give me your wands," Rolf said, "and let's talk."

It felt like he was cutting off his own arm when Harry handed over his wand to Rolf.

He knew him, liked him even. But the Rolf Scamander he knew was from a different world.

Once the door was closed behind them, Rolf hit Luna with an Ennervate.

She came to immediately, blinking up at them from the floor.

"Who-who are you?" she asked in a trembling voice, "This isn't funny, you know!"

"Luna," Rolf said weakly, "I think we should listen to them. Just let them talk."

"No," Luna said, shaking her head and blinking away tears as she slowly got to her feet, "this isn't funny! Get out of my house! The Director said that you people weren't to torment me, so-"

"Please, Luna," Hermione said, "just listen! We came here from another world!"

Luna's lip peeled back from her teeth and she raised a trembling hand, a finger outstretched.

"That's absurd! I don't know what you're trying to get out of this, but-"

"I'm Harry Potter, and so is he," Harry gestured at his alternate, "Look at our wands, two of them are exactly the same! In our world, Luna, we're friends! More than friends, you helped us kill Vold-You-Know-Who!"

Luna's hand fell limply by her side.

"Hermione-both of them, they were working for the Department of Mysteries, in our different worlds, and they were studying this thing that could travel between worlds. They must be studying it here too, because our devices just went off, and we all ended up here. I swear, Luna. I swear I'm telling the truth."

Luna looked over at Ginny, her face paling as she did so.

"We-we went to see what was going on, in Diagon," Harry said, speaking through a sudden blockage in his throat, "and we found-that-that fucking place. And the Death Eaters, they came in and saw Severus, they thought he was the one from here. So we had a fight and-we captured some of them. And the info we got from Crabbe suggested that you might be willing to help us."

Her eyes flitted back to him.

"Help you?"

"We just-we want to go home. And we'll take whoever's interested in leaving this hellhole of a world."

She kept her eyes focused on him for a moment.

Then, with a sudden movement that had Harry reaching for a wand that wasn't there, she jumped on Ginny.

Luna grabbed her in a tight embrace and started crying into the other woman's shoulder.

"It's you-it's you, it's you, and they made me watch, and you're here, and it's you, you're alive!"

Rolf reached over and clasped her shoulder, murmuring something that Harry couldn't make out.

Luna stayed in that position for a minute before letting go of Ginny.

She closed her eyes tight, and when she opened them, she looked far more present, more in-focus.

Something tightened around her eyes, and suddenly she seemed far more dangerous than she had a few minutes previously.

"Rolf," she said, turning to him, and her voice carried iron behind it, "set up the proximity alerts and the screen."

Rolf walked off.

Luna faced the group again.

"Let's talk, then."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

Harry woke up to the sound of someone knocking at his door.

He groaned, turning over.

By the time he and Daphne had gotten to bed the previous night, it had been close to two in the morning.

And he did not feel like it had been long since then.

' _If this isn't important, I'm going to rip that bitch's throat out.'_

"What?" He called, coughing as he did.

"I'm sorry, Master, I'm sorry, but you said to wake you up if anyone came from Master's work. Please-"

He sat bolt-upright, energy rushing into him.

"Send them in. You won't be punished for this."

"Thank you, Master," Angie said tearfully, "Master is too kind, th-"

"NOW!"

He could hear her running, as Daphne turned over in bed.

"What did the bitch do this time?" She asked sleepily.

"There's someone here from work. They're coming in."

"What time is it?" She asked, stifling a yawn as she slowly sat up.

He looked over at the clock.

"Five-fifteen."

"Fuck, this better be important."

He threw a pair of pants on.

"It will be. They know better, otherwise."

Someone knocked tentatively at the door.

Daphne finished putting a robe on and nodded.

"Come in!"

Blaise walked in.

"Signs of Apparition," he said, without preamble, "maybe half an hour ago. They've started tracking, should have something within fifteen to twenty minutes."

Harry dropped the shoe he was about to put on.

"Get everyone," he rasped, "everyone on active duty. Call in Raymond, get him to have two squads ready. Fuck, we need everyone available."

"I've started in that," Blaise said, "Raymond's busy with that now. I left Carter gathering up our men."

Harry smiled grimly.

"We'll be at headquarters in five," he said, "let's get ready to catch these fuckers."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror._

As predicted, Luna and Rolf seemed to be taking it in stride.

"So in neither of your worlds did you side with him?" She asked, looking at the two Harry Potters, "and in both of them he lost?"

Harry nodded.

Ginny sat next to Luna. Luna had been unwilling to let go of Ginny's hand, once they entered the living room.

He sipped the tea, as Luna carried on.

"And-your worlds. They're normal? None of this muggle slavery and genocide?"

"We never went to war with muggles," Hermione said, "it's ridiculous! We're working towards getting rid of the Statute of Secrecy and partnering with them, not attacking them!"

One of the muggles made a sound at that, some shocked exclamation.

Luna nodded.

"He never-in our worlds, he never spread his influence past Britain. Not really. Definitely not to the US."

"Here," Rolf said morosely, "he gained control of the rest of Europe before he even took Britain."

"We would need to get this device from the Department of Mysteries, in order to travel to one of your worlds?" Luna asked.

"Yes," The other Hermione said, "I have no idea which of our worlds it'll send us to, if it doesn't send us somewhere else or bring other people here, but we need it. It's the only way I know of."

"Impossible," Rolf said, "or the next best thing. Rookwood runs that place with an iron fist. No one unauthorized is getting in there."

"In our world, we were told the same about capturing Bellatrix," the other Harry said, looking at Hermione, "But we managed. If we could get hold of Rookwood..."

"We're getting ahead of ourselves," Harry said, glaring at his alternate, "we need to try and meet the rebels. Do you know how we can contact them?"

Luna pursed her lips but said nothing.

"Luna, I swear, we're-"

He was interrupted by a buzzing sound like a mosquito had somehow burrowed into his ear canal.

Rolf and Luna looked at each other in alarm.

"What is that?" Hermione asked.

"Proximity alarms," Rolf said, clenching his jaw. "Looks like we've got company coming."

"They can't have tracked our apparition already," Harry said, "it's-"

"YOU APPARATED HERE?!" Luna shouted, jumping to her feet, "IDIOTS! THEY CAN TRACK IT!"

"But it takes an hour, at least!"

She shook her head frantically.

Beside her, Rolf was waving his wand through a complex series of movements.

Out of nowhere, a T.V. screen appeared, floating in mid-air.

Rolf jabbed his wand toward it, and images appeared.

"How did-"

"Not now," he growled, staring at the screen intently.

On it, they could see groups of people appearing at the edge of Luna's garden.

Most of them wearing black robes with see-through patches on their sleeves.

"Oh god, oh god, it's them. Fuck. He's here, Luna. He's here."

"You-Know-Who's here?" The other Harry asked, his body tensing.

Rolf shook his head, not taking his eyes off of the screen.

"No. Director Potter."

"Rolf," Luna said, pulling his attention away, "take them down. Hide. I'll deal with the questions."

As she spoke, she waved her wand, making a greyish coat fly onto her.

Another wave of her wand turned it invisible.

Rolf went ashen.

"Luna, are-are you sure?"

She reached over and took her husband's hand.

"Over a thousand lives are relying on them not getting information from me. And if I have to die, I'm taking as many of them with me as I can."

"Is that an explosive jacket?" Hermione asked shrilly.

Luna ignored her. She kissed Rolf and whispered something to him.

"Go. Hide. Hopefully, I can get them away."

"Luna," Harry started.

She pointed at the screen.

On it, someone who looked a hell of a lot like him was addressing the assembled witches and wizards.

"Go now. Go!"

Rolf waved his wand again, and the screen disappeared.

"I love you. With all my heart."

He gestured for them to follow.

They walked with him, going downstairs into the cellar.

"The entrance to the Rookery's bunker is located in the cellar."

As he spoke, a weight settled into Harry's mind.

Suddenly, a large metal door appeared, pushing against the walls beside it as it grew from the ground.

One of the muggles whispered as Rolf stepped toward it, drawing his wand across his palm as he did so.

From upstairs, the sound of someone knocking at the door came.

Rolf rubbed his bloody hand against the door, muttering something as he did so.

It opened onto a dark room, right as they heard Luna calling.

"Just a minute. I'm coming, just a minute."

"Inside," Rolf said, pointing to the room behind the door, "now!"

They walked into the darkness.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

Luna sat before him on a couch in her living room, trembling.

A part of him hoped that she wouldn't force him to break her.

Another part hoped that she would.

He stood in front of her, staring into her deliciously terrified eyes.

"I've always been good to you, haven't I?"

"You-you have."

"Never gave you the punishments your traitor friends should have brought onto you. Ignored your little indiscretions, brushed them away. Yeah, I've always been fucking good to you."

She stayed silent.

"So why do you treat me like this? Why, Luna?"

"I don't know what-"

"You don't know?" He asked incredulously, cutting her sentence in two, "you don't know? Should I have Lorcan and Lysander brought in from Peru? Will having your sons here help you know?"

Internally, he could help but laugh at the way she started crying, just at the mention of her sons' names.

And his casual mention of their current location.

"Yes, Luna. I know where they are. I'm the fucking Director, I know most things. So why do you try to hide things from me? Don't you want me to be your friend anymore?"

"I'm not hiding anything," she said in a tiny voice, "I'm not."

"You're not?"

He took a step toward her, rolling his wand between his fingers.

"See, Luna, something tells me that you are. Where are they, Luna? Where?"

"Who?" She whispered.

He ran his wand down her cheek, from the corner of her eye to her mouth.

"I think you would have recognized them. Your old friends, Luna. Traitors. We know they came here. Now. Where. Are. They?"

Luna's eyes widened, as her mouth began to shake.

"They-they-they were real?"

"You know as well as I do that they're fucking real."

"I thought they weren't. I-I-I thought I was imagining them!"

"Looney Luna Lovegood," He hissed, "don't lie to me, Luna. Don't you fucking try it."

"I'm not! I'm not! I see them all the time, I thought-"

Luna began to sob, her whole body shaking.

"I thought they weren't real," she wailed, "I closed the door on them and lay down on the couch!"

He pulled his wand away from her face, looking down at her with a frown.

Then he sighed and focused on his connection to Daphne and Bellona.

' _Bring them in.'_

Almost immediately, the front door opened again.

"We're checking anyway, Luna," he said roughly. "And if you're lying to me...well, you remember what happened to Ginny, don't you?"

Luna began to wail harder, reaching up to pull at her hair.

He slapped her hand away.

"None of that. Control yourself. For fuck's sake, stop acting like a crazy bitch for five minutes."

He didn't look away from her, as people crowded the room.

"Check everywhere. The entire fucking place."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32_.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen. God help him, but he couldn't stop watching this monstrosity.

"That's not me," he heard the other Harry saying, "no way."

It wasn't. And yet, it was.

Behind the glowing red eyes, behind the shrunken nose and twisted, scarred face, he kept catching glimpses of himself.

He kept hearing his voice, in that creature's disgusting words.

It wasn't him.

And yet, it could have been.

He finally managed to move his eyes from it, his gorge rising, and he met Rolf's gaze.

"You really are nothing like him," Rolf said wonderingly, "nothing at all."

"That-that thing isn't-isn't me."

"Not in the slightest," Hermione said fiercely.

"Well, Luna. It seems you weren't lying after all."

He turned back to the screen, to see his counterpart standing next to Luna with a sour expression.

"I swear, I wasn't."

"Lucky you, I guess. Everyone, out!"

Slowly, the Death Eaters started leaving the house.

Behind him, one of the muggles started whispering some prayer.

"Just make sure that I don't have to visit you again, Luna. You won't want that. I'd rather we stay friends."

He ignored his Auror counterpart's muttered denials, focused intently on the screen.

There, Luna was shaking her head.

"And if they come back, you'll let us know right away, hey?"

"I-I will."

The him from this world smiled, patting Luna on the head.

"Good girl. Bye, Luna."

She didn't respond, just stayed sitting silently until he'd left the room.

"So now-"

"Now we wait," Rolf said, "for Luna to come down here. She'll give it a few minutes, then go make sure there's none of them hiding in the house. Then we can talk."

Harry stretched his arms and looked around, full of the need to distract himself from what he'd just seen.

"This place is pretty impressive. How long did it take you guys to build?"

Honestly, it was incredible. Just from a cursory look at the walls and roof, he could see that they were at least as thick as his fist. They seemed to be layered in Runes and Wards, making a shimmery spider web of barely visible protective enchantments.

Rolf was still staring intently at the screen when he answered, tapping it with his wand every few moments and making it show a different room in the house.

"All in all, about five years. The actual building and Warding should have taken under a year, but we had to go very slowly. Didn't want to attract any attention."

Harry whistled, looking around again.

He'd always known Luna was talented. Hell, he'd seen her fight.

But this was the type of thing he'd expect from the Ministry, not from a couple who had to hide the fact that they were building it.

"How much food do you guys have here?"

"Probably about six months' worth. One of those cupboards is under Freezing and Statis Charms, and we've got a bunch of dried and canned goods."

Harry whistled again.

"You-If need be, we could hide you here for a while," Rolf said, finally turning around. "We've done it before. Just until we can get you to a safer location."

That got everyone's attention, making other Hermione and Ron dropping their whispered conversation.

"Where's safer?" The other him asked.

Rolf looked around at them.

"We can get you to the rebels. If you-if you really killed the Emperor, even in other worlds. God, what that can do for us, what it could do for morale...People are afraid, talking about giving up. Just knowing that it's possible, that we can beat him-"

His alternate shook his head. "I don't think it'll be possible here. The world's very different. In our world, he only controlled Britain. And even then, there were plenty of people fighting."

"You can't tell them that," Rolf hissed, "It'll-"

"We can take them with us," Harry quickly said, ignoring his alternate's thankful glance. "We can't fight everyone. But if we find out how to leave, we can take everyone who wants to go with to a world where he's been dead for thirty years."

Rolf didn't say anything, only kept moving his gaze between the two versions of Harry.

"Kidnapping Rookwood and then getting into the Department of Mysteries will be hard," Auror Harry said, "but it'll be easier than killing You-Know-Who and his army."

Slowly, Rolf nodded.

"Let's wait for Luna," he said, "we'll figure this out together."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

He stood on the crest of a small hill, looking at the house.

"Sir? Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey charms are up, and we've cut them off from the Floo."

A small smile spread across his face.

Lie to him, would she?

"Excellent, Franklin. Excellent. What else?"

"The military squads are in position. We've been searching, but so far no sign of them having gone on foot or broom. We-we've discovered some underground tunnels, leading from the house. There doesn't seem to be anyone in them at the moment."

He wished he could see the reactions. The moment they realized all avenues of escape were cut off.

"Destroy them. And tell the men that for now, we wait. We'll give them a chance to surrender properly."

Out the corner of his eye, he caught Franklin bowing.

"Yes, sir."

Daphne walked up to him.

"So we wait?"

"One last chance. I'll call them out in ten minutes. And if they don't come, we go in."

"It'll be a bloodbath."

He took her hand in his.

"Exciting, isn't it?"

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror._

The sound of the explosion tore through the bunker.

It was well-built enough that it barely even shook, but they still rocked.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?"

His alternate's shout could barely be heard over the clamour of voices.

Rolf didn't reply. He started waving his wand at the screen again, a franticness evident in his movements that hadn't been there earlier.

"Oh, fuck."

Somehow, Rolf's quiet words cut through the hubbub.

Harry looked to the screen, fearing what he'd see.

It showed the outside of the Rookery.

And clearly, though they'd left the house, the Death Eaters hadn't called it a day and gone home

There were easily fifty of them, ranged around the property.

A few of them stood above an enormous crater in the ground, talking amongst themselves.

Luna burst through the door. "Rolf, was that-"

"It was," he said with a quiet despondency, "they found the tunnels. They've taken them out."

"Floo's gone," Luna said, "so's Apparition. Portkeys' probably are as well."

"They're waiting for us to come out," Harry said, speaking as soon as he realized what was going on, "they don't want a fight in here."

"We can hold out in here though, can't we?" Hermione asked, an edge of panic hanging on her words "with all the food? They can't get in, can they?"

Luna closed her eyes.

"If they get tired of waiting, they'll let loose Fiendfyre. They'll flush us out that way."

One of the muggles started crying, their sobbing filling the shocked silence.

Harry felt like he was watching from a distance, as he tried to come up with something, some plan to save them all.

But nothing came to mind.

"We fight our way out," his alternate said grimly, "that's our only choice."

Harry quickly ran his eyes around the silent room, noting the stunned realization appearing on all the faces there.

' _He's right,'_ he thought, with a feeling like a block of ice had been dropped into his groin, _'damnit, but he's right.'_

"We're completely outnumbered," Ron said, "and they've got us surrounded. How the hell do you plan on fighting that?"

"We still have a few tricks up our sleeves," Luna announced, a terrible smile that Harry had never before seen her wear starting to spread across her cheeks. "And if any of you," she nodded at Harry, his counterpart, and Snape there, "are as good as the versions of you here, we might have a chance. But someone will need to take down those Anti-Apparation Charms."

"I'll do it," Hermione said quickly. "If you guys can protect me, I'll have them down soon."

Luna eyed her for a moment before nodding.

"The Hermione I knew, she could-"

She abruptly cut off her sentence, blinking her eyes furiously and shaking her head.

"Standard practice for them is to have two people holding those Charms in a fight. One backup in case the first one falls. You won't get anywhere until they're dead."

"As soon as you can," she continued, "you need to Apparate out of here. You need to head to the Culloden Forest, near Inverness."

"Do it with as many stops as you can," Rolf advised, "at least five or six. Makes it harder for them to track."

"When you get there," Luna said, "find the wishing well. Tap it three times with your wand, and say that the Knights sent you. Tell them how many of you there are, and that the password-"

She cut off, darting her eyes to Ginny before swallowing and looking down.

Rolf placed a trembling hand on her shoulder and continued. "The password is Ginevra. They'll come and fetch you. Either with brooms or Thestrals. And they'll blindfold you. When you arrive, they'll stun you, take your wands, and take you into headquarters. You will be questioned."

"Stun us? Not a-"

"Shut up and listen," Rolf said, freezing Harry's counterpart with a glare. "We're not telling you the Secret. So-"

"You can tell us," he said, "we-"

"They've been working on a way to break the Fidelius," Luna said, "they don't have it yet, but we can't take that risk."

Right then, a horrible voice sounded around the room. It came from the very walls, shocking Harry out of his seat and making Luna drop to her knees.

It was his own voice, magnified much the same way Voldemort's had once been.

"You shouldn't have lied to me, Luna. Last chance, all of you. Come out quietly, and maybe you'll live. Make us come in there, and we'll see how long it takes for you to die. You have five minutes."

He felt Ginny clutching his arm, saw the other Hermione grabbing his counterpart's shoulders.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the echoes to die down.

"Right," Rolf said, turning to the muggles, "Do any of you know how to shoot a gun?"

One of them, an older man, raised his hand hesitantly.

Rolf sighed.

"All of you are going to have to learn. Just point at a bad guy and pull the trigger. That's all you can do."

"I don't want to fight," one of them cried, tears running down his face, "Please, Master, please can-"

"No. If you want to even maybe live, you'll do this. Come."

The muggles followed him over to one of the cabinets. He opened it, revealing a rack of sleek looking handguns.

He saw the muggle girl who had begged them to protect her sister walking up to his counterpart and saying something.

He turned away from the others, leaning over to Ginny.

"No escaping the nightmares, huh?"

She laughed and covered her mouth, looking shocked.

"I love you," he said, suddenly feeling an urgent need to announce it. "I just-"

She kissed him, trapping his words in his mouth.

It wasn't the best kiss they'd shared. He was shaking with adrenaline, fear beginning to turn his innards into snakes, and her face was wet with tears.

It wasn't the best, but it was all they had time for.

"Come on," Luna called, tearing them out of their embrace, "we need to get moving. And we'll need to activate the defences from the entrance hall."

With no further conversation, they left the bunker, departing from its false promise of safety.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

"Ok, on my mark, I want squad A moving in. In three, two-"

A heartbeat before he reached one, two overlapping voices shouted out something from the house.

He whipped his head around, staring at the front door.

"Was that an incantation?"

He started turning back to his men, but movement caught his eye.

Large shimmering patches were moving, all around the walls of Luna's house.

As he watched, they began to _tear_ themselves out of the walls and jump down.

It was one of the oddest things he'd ever seen, like watching a drawing on a piece of paper come to life and become three-dimensional.

At least ten of them, all in monstrous gargoyle shapes.

At the same time, a huge black funnel cloud appeared behind the house, rising into the air.

He only just managed to make out the shining beaks and cruel talons of thousands of birds, when the front door opened.

And all hell broke loose.

The intruders burst out of the house, along with Luna, Rolf, and the muggles.

All the muggles seemed to be wielding guns, most of them looking like they barely knew how to hold the damn things.

At the same time, the gargoyles started running forward, directly at the main group of Death Eaters.

The birds all screeched as one, and dived down, a cloud of death flying straight for him.

"FIENDFYRE!" He shouted, casting the monstrous flames into the air.

The birds screeched even louder, twisting and jerking to the sides and avoiding his fiery creations.

"TAKE CARE OF THE BIRDS," He shouted to his men behind him, "AND THEN CAPTURE THESE FUCKERS ALIVE!"

He stopped feeding the curse, allowed the Fiendfyre to grow no larger.

And he cast it forward, mentally directing it to attack the gargoyles now loping over the grass toward him.

He wouldn't be able to concentrate on it for too long, not if he wanted to fight the intruders as well.

He was good, but no one other than the Dark Lord was capable of such a feat.

A spell passed just over his head, its wind blowing his hair back.

He grimaced, casting a Shield Charm around him. It wouldn't block any powerful spells, and wouldn't stand up to too many bullets if the muggles actually managed to use those guns, but it did allow him some level of protection and greater manoeuvrability than the other options would.

Within seconds of casting it, some curse hit his shield, throwing up lines of blue light as it refracted.

Shouts and pained screams from behind him told him that his men were still fighting the birds.

He heard Franklin screaming that he was blind, a pained shriek that abruptly ended with a sickly wet sound.

His wand began to grow warm.

He ended the Fiendfyre, spinning around immediately as he did so.

He only caught a brief glance of his men. There seemed to be far less of those birds, but a lot of his fighters were down.

The birds that still remained were attacking, flying at the Death Eaters' faces and hands, sharp claws attacking eyes and throats.

In the moment that he watched, he saw a bird curl its talons around someone's jugular and rip it out, sending their lifeblood gushing out.

He heard Daphne shouting something and Bella responding, as he turned back to his human enemies.

They'd spread out in a line, one of the alternate versions of him standing ahead of the rest of them.

Most of them looked to be attacking his men, flinging curses and hexes wildly.

He saw one of the muggles raising a gun, clearly aiming at him.

He snarled, snapping his wand upward sharply, making the muggle's gun fly out of its hand and into its face, hard enough to bend the metal out of shape.

As it fell to the floor, he spun his wand blocking a curse the other version of him had sent at him.

He trained his wand on another muggle with a gun.

"INTESTINUS ERUPTO!"

The muggle's belly exploded, its blood and intestines bursting out and splattering the surroundings with gore.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO LIE TO ME, LUNA! I FUCKING TOLD YOU!"

Luna cringed at his shout, interrupting whatever she had been about to cast.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

He just managed to raise a stone pillar to block the Killing Curse. It shattered, and with a contemptuous flick of his wrist, he multiplied the shards and shot them at his alternate.

Who then Transfigured them into daggers and sent them right back at him.

He laughed as loudly as he could, waving his wand and conjuring a gale-force wind to knock them aside.

"I thought you'd be better than that," he called, "if you really were me, you would be."

"I'M NOTHING LIKE YOU!"

The other him sent a stream of fire.

He laughed again, as he enlarged it and sent it at the others fighting.

The third version of him jumped into the fight, sending a cutting curse with unnerving accuracy.

He just managed to block it, immediately having to turn and deal with the other one's Bludgeoner.

He spun and twisted, his wand spinning incessantly as he fought the other two versions of himself.

He deflected their curses when he could, conjured up shields when he couldn't, and dodged when he had no choice.

Daphne jumped beside him, pulling away one of the Grangers as she was about to join the attack.

One of his alternates got distracted by that, his concentration lapsing for just enough time for Harry to form a pile of earth into a golem and send it at him.

The other one sent some powerful blast of energy at him, strong enough that even with a shield he was knocked back several meters.

He barely managed to get back up before he had to drop again, not having enough time to block the emerald jet hurtling toward him.

By the time he successfully got back to his feet, Blaise had joined the fight and was helping Daphne as they duelled the mudblood and the alternate Snape.

The sounds filtering through from behind him sounded like his men had finished with the birds and were coming to join him.

He blew up the ground in front of his two alternates, pushing them back.

Then he waved his wand like a lasso, pulling back with as much strength as he could.

And he pulled down Luna's fucking house.

Masonry squealed and bricks and stone flew everywhere, as Luna's absurd home came crashing down.

Right then, a group of his men arrived at his right and began attacking his alternates.

Some curse hit Blaise, knocking him flying in front of Harry.

He spun to help Daphne, conjuring enormous hands from the earth that grabbed one of the Grangers and gripped her tight, smashing her into the floor and knocking her unconscious.

"HERMIONE!"

One of his alternates launched himself at her, seeming to forget that he was in the middle of a battle.

With a flick of his wrist, he solidified the air around him, making motion all but impossible.

The alternate Snape jumped forward, wand moving with blinding speed, and that version of Harry was free.

"IT'S DOWN!" The conscious Granger shouted, "NOW, NOW, NOW!"

She spun, Apparating away.

Luna and Rolf each grabbed a muggle as they Apparated.

The version of Harry who'd been trapped was running toward the unconscious Granger, shouting her name.

Before Harry could do anything, Snape grabbed that version of him again and Apparated, taking him along.

Harry shot a golden web from his wand, one which would prevent any form of magical travel.

It flew beautifully, straight for his last remaining alternate.

And Ron fucking Weasley dived forward, knocking the weak version of him out of its path and getting tangled in it himself.

"GO!" He shouted, and the Harry with him obeyed, disappearing with a loud crack.

After maybe fifteen minutes of furious fighting, the battle was over.

He closed his eyes, letting the fragrance of burning corpses wash over him.

Slowly, his heart returned to its normal rhythm, adrenaline dissipating as the thrill of the fight stopped thrumming in his veins.

"How many did we get?" He asked, still keeping his eyes closed while he spoke.

Corey answered, speaking with obvious trepidation.

"Just those two, sir."

He turned around to face him, opening his eyes.

"Just those two. Just those two. We go through all this," he waved a hand, gesturing towards the dozens of dead and injured men around him, "and we only capture two? AND I HAD TO CATCH THEM MYSELF? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ALL OF YOU?!"

Daphne put a hand on his arm and leaned over, whispering into his ear.

"Harry, be gentle. Those birds were fucking horrific, and those gargoyles were terrible, as well. Be glad we at least got the two."

He closed his eyes again, breathing deeply.

"Get the injured out of here. I want everyone else searching through that pile of rubble."

"And-and the prisoners, sir?"

He ignored the question, walking over to the golden net where Ron Weasley was trapped.

The ginger's eyes widened when he drew near and began to fill with terror.

It was beyond intoxicating.

"I'll deal with them," he called out.

 **AS ALWAYS: REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW.**


	5. Chapter 5--Quaff this Kind Nepenthe

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Chapter 5–Quaff this kind nepenthe

"Of pain you could wish only one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes."-George Orwell—1984

* * *

 _3 May 2028_

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

"Wake up, Mudblood," he cooed gently, "time to get up."

The anticipation was building in him, coiled energy and excitement setting his pulse racing.

God, it just never got old.

"WAKE THE FUCK UP, BITCH!" He roared, slapping her hard enough that the chair she was strapped to shook.

It didn't shake too hard, though. It was stuck to the floor too well for that to happen.

Next to him, Daphne chuckled as the Mudblood opened her eyes with a pig-like squeal.

Harry leaned back, settling in his chair across the desk from her.

It took her a few seconds, but she focused on him eventually, her eyes widening and face paling as she did.

He saw understanding flit across her expression when she tried to move.

Of course, she was fastened down tightly. Thick metal buckles bound each of her legs and arms to the iron chair she was on.

"Granger," Daphne said, "you've aged quite well. Better than the version of you here, at least."

The Mudblood closed her eyes tight, nostrils flaring wide.

"She doesn't seem to be too talkative," Daphne said, sounding sad, "that's just hurtful, don't you think?"

"After all the effort we went through to bring her here," Harry said, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. "Downright rude of her, I'd say."

"She needs to learn about gratitude."

Harry nodded.

With a flourish, Daphne drew her wand and aimed at the Mudblood.

"Crucio."

Granger shook as much as the bindings allowed her, blood starting to drip from her mouth as she bit through her lip.

She didn't scream, though. She groaned loudly, but that was it.

After about a minute, Daphne ended the Curse and sat there, breasts heaving with her deep breaths.

The look of utter joy on her face had been half the reason that Harry had married her.

"Listen up. You're not escaping from here, so you can stop thinking about it already. We're going to be asking you questions, and you'll answer with the truth. If you lie or don't answer, we'll hurt you. Believe me, before long you'll be begging us to let you talk. Understand?"

She stared at him with such hatred he could almost taste it.

Stared, but didn't answer.

"I said, understand?"

Still no answer.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, drawing his own wand.

With a wave of it, he broke every bone in her left hand.

She screamed again, a shrill cry full of agony.

He reached over and grabbed the broken hand, squeezing as hard as he could, feeling the ruined bones rolling under his fingers.

"ANSWER MY FUCKING QUESTIONS! DO YOU UNDERSTAND? DO YOU? BRILLIANT LITTLE MUDBLOOD WHORE, DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND ME?"

"YES," she cried, "YES, PLEASE STOP! PLEASE-"

Daphne slashed her wand, making a Galleon-sized patch of flesh on Granger's cheek start to boil, skin going red and bubbly as it heated up.

She screamed again, a wordless howl.

"JUST ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTIONS! I'M NOT HERE TO LISTEN TO YOUR STUPID BEGGING. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Y-y-yes!" She blubbered, "I understand!"

Daphne snapped her wand down, ending the curse.

"Good. Good. Tell me, Mudblood. Who came with you to this world?"

Tears were streaming down her face, mingling with the bloody pus on her cheek.

She hesitated, and Harry raised his wand.

"HARRY AND SEVERUS. I CAME WITH HARRY AND SEVERUS. P-"

She bit her lip, cutting her last word off before she could doom herself to more punishment.

Harry gave her an encouraging smile.

"What about the others?" Daphne asked. "Did they all come from the same world?"

"Y-Yes. The-the other me, the other H-Harry, Ginny, and R-R-Ron, they c-came together."

"Why did you people come into my world?" Harry asked.

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! I SWEAR!"

Harry sneered. With a quick movement, he slapped her face again.

"You expect me to believe that?"

She shook her head from side to side quickly.

"I swear, I swear, it was an accident! We-I'm the head of the Department of Mysteries, and-and we were studying this thing, this d-device. And-it just went off! That's all, I swear!"

"So why did those two end up with you?" Daphne asked, "why not other people from the Department of Mysteries?"

"I-I wanted to show it to Severus! I thought he'd be able to help me understand it! And it just went off!"

Harry frowned. Her story, insanely bizarre as it was, made sense.

"Oh, Mudblood. There are so many things that you're going to tell us. First, tell me this. Where were you going? Where was Luna taking you?"

Granger started crying again.

"Answer us, bitch. Where?"

She gritted her teeth and said nothing.

Harry jabbed his wand forward, incanting as he did.

"Capiopellis!"

Ever so slowly, all the skin on her right hand began tearing itself away from flesh and bone.

Starting at the very edges of her fingertips, the skin peeled back from her hand in thick strips.

Blood pooled on her skinless fingers, held in place by the concentration powering the spell.

As it always did, it took the victim a couple of moments to register what was happening to them.

Harry had seen some wonderful reactions in the past when people suddenly realized that they were being flayed.

Granger, for all that she was a worthless Mudblood know-it-all, did not disappoint.

Her head jerked down, and she paled incredibly.

Then she started screaming, loudly and hysterically enough that Harry actually got worried she'd ruin something in her throat and wouldn't be able to talk.

Only once the skin had pulled back past her wrist did Harry end it, muttering the counter curse and forcing her skin to cover her hand again.

Daphne immediately acted, casting a suffocation curse.

She only removed it two minutes later, leaving Granger gulping and gasping for air.

"Speak, bitch. Where did they go?"

The Mudblood clenched her jaw, eyes tightly shut.

As Harry raised his wand again, a loud, blood-curdling scream sounded in another interrogation room, loud enough to pass through the hallways and walls.

Granger's eyes shot open, wide and terrified.

"Bella's having fun," Daphne remarked.

Harry smiled.

"Sounds like it." He looked at Granger, noticing how she stared back at him with a mute question.

"That's your weasel friend there. Ronnie boy. Sounds like he's having fun, doesn't it?"

"R-Ron?"

"Oh yes. We've got him. Hey, maybe you want to see him. Maybe we can do the two of you together. That sounds nice, doesn't it?"

"No, no, please, no!"

"Daph, do you mind?"

Daphne sighed but stood up.

"Thanks, babe."

He turned back to Granger, ignoring her muttered denials.

"Now. I told you, you only get to talk when you're answering a question. Crucio!"

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror_

"This is insane! How can you possibly believe them?"

Luna stood up to the attack, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

"How can I believe them? How can I believe them? Honestly, Viktor, do you have a better explanation?"

"Spies! They are-"

"Spies? Spies with a ten thousand Galleon reward on their head? Spies that the Director personally led about fifty of his troops to capture?"

Viktor made a face but said nothing.

Harry looked around the room again, marvelling to himself.

It had taken over an hour for him to get to the wishing well in the Culloden Forest. He'd taken Rolf's advice, Apparating and running for a bit before Apparating again, and again, and again.

When he'd arrived at the well, some of the rebels had just arrived to take his alternate, Snape, Luna, Rolf, and the two muggles.

For the second time in his life, Harry had ridden a Thestral.

As Rolf and Luna had said, they were stunned and had their wands confiscated before being taken into the rebels' secret hideout.

And now they were being interrogated, while the rebel high command decided what to do with them.

His alternate was still unconscious, as he'd been since before he'd even arrived at the wishing well.

Apparently, he'd refused to leave his Hermione behind, and had been on the brink of Apparating back into a war zone when Snape had stunned him.

Harry envied him. He, at least, didn't have to listen to his self-doubt. He, at least, had been given no choice about leaving.

' _Ron told me to go! I had no chance, it would have taken at least five minutes to break that fucking net, and I'd have been caught too! I had to go!'_

Try as he might, he couldn't quite convince himself that he'd done the right thing.

Try as he might, he couldn't completely quash the terrible images his imagination conjured up; the horrific tortures that he hoped Ron wasn't actually going through.

He breathed in deeply, forcing the images out of his mind as he looked around the room.

It was amazing, this place. A secret hideout, buried somewhere deep in the Scottish Highlands. Wherever they were, they were under the Fidelius, and easily dozens of other protective enchantments.

Even with Luna and Rolf having vouched for their trustworthiness, a group of guards stood behind each of their chairs, wands at the ready.

They were in a large underground cave maybe two or three hundred meters across. The enormous stones making up the walls shimmered with the faint light of Wards and Runes.

Glass balls hovered around the room, giving off light and warmth.

Harry and the rest of the travellers, with the exception of the other version of him, were all sitting on a row of chairs.

Ranged before them, either on their own more comfortable armchairs or just standing and pacing, were what appeared to be the rebel command structure.

There were Luna and Rolf, Viktor Krum, a centaur, a goblin, Cedric Diggory, Hestia Jones, a wizard who looked damn similar to Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a witch and wizard that Harry didn't recognize.

Cedric Diggory, standing there alive as one of the rebels. It was mind-boggling, how different things must have played out in this world.

"What do you say, Danolus?" The unfamiliar witch asked in a pinched voice.

The centaur, Danolus, stamped a hoof, flicking his tail from side to side.

"Their words have a ring of truth to them," he said finally, "and it would be too far-fetched a tale for them to be lying. The Death Eaters' attack on Luna's house adds credibility. I believe them."

"And you, Brodgor?"

The goblin smiled before speaking, a single sharp incisor poking through a gap in his lips.

"I agree with Danolus. And these newcomers, Luna trusts them. If we have relied on Luna for so much until now, we can rely on her for this."

"Cedric?"

"I think they're telling the truth," he said, "and if they are, we can only gain."

"Hestia?"

"I remember what Harry Potter used to look like before whatever rituals he did. And though I was young when James and Lily were killed, I remember what they looked like. I believe them."

"Tarquin?"

The black wizard didn't speak, instead merely nodded his head.

"Murdoc?"

"They're telling the truth," The unfamiliar wizard said, "it's the only thing that makes sense."

"I agree," the witch said, "Viktor, anything else to add?"

"If they are truly telling the truth," Viktor said, "it gives us a chance. But if they are not, we will all die in agony. I say we trust them, but not too much. They stay under guard. They do not get to make decisions. But we listen to what they have to say. And we bear in mind the cost if they are lying."

The rest of the assembly seemed to ponder this for a few minutes, before one by one, they nodded.

"Very well," the witch said, "you will tell us as much of what happened in your worlds as possible, and-"

"First," Luna said, "we need to declare a lockdown. We've warned everyone that the well is probably compromised, but it's still only a matter of time until the Death Eaters arrive in this general area."

"We'll do it tonight," Cedric promised.

"My people won't like this," Danolus grumbled, "enchanted rooms are all well and good, but they are no true comparison to running under the sky."

"Remind them that they're not yet extinct," Brodgor snapped, "maybe that will calm their nerves."

"Second," Luna continued, "we need to start planning a mass evacuation. We'll need to meet with our friends overseas. It's our best option."

"I am not running," Viktor said, "not again, not since Kenya. Luna-"

"It's our best chance, Viktor! Listen to them, listen to our options! We can go to a world that's not this-this fucked up place! But we need everyone!"

Tarquin focused on Harry, raising a hand and drawing silence down upon them.

"Tell us about your worlds. And how you think we could get there."

Harry swallowed thickly and began to talk.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

"Just remember, Weasley. The Mudblood can make the pain stop whenever she wants. All she needs to do is answer our questions."

Weasley slapped his head from side to side, screaming mutely.

They'd been forced to apply a Silencing Charm after the second time that he told the Mudblood not to tell them anything.

Of course, his screams would add potent emphasis. But soon enough, he'd be begging her to tell them everything. When they thought he'd reached that point, they'd let him speak.

"What do you say, Mudblood? Should we carry on, or do you want to ease his agony a bit?"

She tried to close her eyes, but Daphne wouldn't let her.

"How are you such a monster?" She whispered. "In-in my world, you're the-the best person I kn-know. H-how-"

"That's not answering the question. Bella, carry on."

With a giggle, Bellona bent back to her work, moving on from his toes, breaking the bones in his feet now.

"She'll break the bones in as many places as she can," he said, speaking in a conversational tone, "as you can see, she's crushing them once they're broken. Soon we'll start with the burning. Then the cutting. Then the flaying. And then we'll take off his foot. We'll go all the way up to the knee before we start on the other one."

"PLEASE STOP! PLEASE! PL-"

He waved his wand negligently, and she started choking again.

"How many fucking times do I have to tell you? You only get to speak if you're answering my questions!"

He let her breathe only once she started getting a bluish tinge to her skin.

Immediately, she vomited all over the table.

Daphne grabbed her by the hair, and smashed her face into the desk, moving it back and forth and rubbing it in her sick.

"You're fucking lucky, Mudblood. If any of that had hit me..."

Daphne pulled her head back up.

Her face was even more of a mess than it had been before, with chunks of half-digested food stuck to it and mixing with the blood and burnt flesh.

"You look like shit. God, just tell us what we want to know. It'll be so much better for you."

She snarled at him.

"Have it your way, then. Bella? Can we start burning him?"

Bella just giggled, totally engrossed.

She listened, though. With a muttered incantation, a white-hot flame shot from the tip of her wand.

Ever so gently, she held it a few centimetres away from the sole of his foot.

He was clearly trying to scream, his mouth moving as if to form words.

A jab of his wand and the Silencing Charm was removed.

"PLEASE! STOP! STOP! I SWEAR, I'LL TALK, STOP!"

Harry jabbed his wand forward again, silencing him.

"Bella, give it a break for a moment, please. Just so I can talk to him."

He waited a minute, watching as Bella pulled back her wand.

"Listen again, Weasley. You can't make it stop. I don't want to hear you talk. The only one who can make it stop is the Mudblood. Get her to talk, and it'll stop."

He turned back to Bella and nodded.

He waited until Bella had really gotten back into it before letting Weasley talk again.

"DON'T! HERMIONE, DON'T! DON'T DO IT, DON'T DO IT!"

He Silenced him, turning back to Granger.

"Are you stupid enough to listen to him? You're going to break before long, we all know it. Just save him the pain. Tell us, bitch. Where did they go?"

She cried softly but shook her head.

He sighed.

"Guess we'll have to go on a bit. Shame, really."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror._

"Very well," the unfamiliar witch who'd been identified as one Amanda Turnbull announced, "I think we've heard enough."

The others all muttered their assent.

"We'll start making plans to move to Canada. Join up with our companions there and perhaps go on to Peru."

"We need to-"Luna started.

"Luna," Hestia said, cutting her off mid-sentence, "you and Rolf have done more for us than any other individuals. By far. If not for you two, we would never have lasted even half as long as we have. I cannot possibly overstate how incredible you have been, how important the actions you have taken have been, or how many lives you have saved."

The word 'but' hung in the air, not even needing to be spoken.

"Nevertheless," Hestia continued, "this is not a decision that you can make on your own. To decide whether or not we should embark on this course of action, whether we should truly attempt to leave this world en masse, is not something we can say without having spoken to the others, without putting it to a vote."

"Certainly not!" Danolus said, "terrible as it is here, if we leave we are giving permission to the Empire to continue in their mission of evil."

"And yet victory is all but impossible," Tarquin said, "we can retain the moral high ground, but eventually, we will be discovered. And we will all be executed. Which will simply allow them to continue, as you put it, on their mission of evil."

"Our best option is to leave," Viktor said, "without a doubt. Even doing that will be beyond difficult, but it has the highest possible reward. Even if we were to somehow kill the Emperor, one of his underlings would simply take control. Leaving is our best option."

"Enough!" Amanda said. "Enough. Let our newest companions find rooms, let them see to whatever injuries they haven't yet healed. We have logistics of an enormous move to plan."

"Wait," Hestia said. "Luna. The spy, the Demiguise. Can he possibly help? With the prisoners, or with Rookwood?"

"He never has been able in the past," Luna answered, "you know that."

"I do. But if this could lead to an escape, keeping his cover may not be a priority much longer."

Slowly, Luna nodded.

"I'll contact him soon."

"Do so." Hestia turned her gaze into Harry.

"Settle in. Luna and Rolf will show you some rooms. Merlin knows we've got plenty to spare. They'll give you back your wands there."

He felt exhausted beyond belief, fatigue seeping into his every inch.

Luckily, he'd barely been injured. A broken rib and sprained ankle which had already been healed, and numerous cuts and bruises, that was the extent of what he'd suffered.

They all were covered in small wounds, their visible skin mottled with bruising and dried blood.

Luna beckoned for them to follow her.

Someone grabbed his arm.

Even through his tiredness, his instincts kicked in.

He spun, pulling out of the grip, his hand flying toward a wand that hadn't yet been returned to him.

Snape held up both his hands.

"Relax, Potter. Relax."

"Sorry. Just...you know."

Snape rolled his eyes.

"I wanted to ask if you'd help me with something..."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32_

Harry was on his feet the instant he was conscious, jumping straight back into panicked action.

"Harry, stop-"

"HERMIONE! WHERE IS SHE?"

He looked around frantically, thick dread filling his innards.

He seemed to be in an underground room if the stone walls and roof were any indication. It was lit up by a glass lamp hanging in mid-air, and he could see a bathroom through a door to the left of the bed.

His Auror counterpart and Severus were there, watching him warily.

But she wasn't.

' _Oh fuck, oh fuck, no, no, no, no, no, I can't do this, no-'_

"Harry, please, sit down-"

"Don't fucking tell me to sit down," he snapped "where is she? Where the fuck is she, Severus? WHERE?!"

"Harry, I want you to clear your mind. Just like we practiced. Breathe deeply, focus-"

"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?"

"Hermione, your Hermione," his Auror self said, "She got captured. She's alive, but they've got her."

His hand shot to his wand, his fingers closing on nothing.

He looked down for an instant, shocked dismay replacing his agonized terror.

"Severus," he said in a low voice, "where the fuck is my wand?"

"I'll give it back when I feel you can be trusted not to do anything stupid with it."

No thought drove his next move. Red rage boiled up into his muscles, driven by furious fear and a desperate need.

He dived forward, hands outstretched toward Severus' throat.

Something hit him, throwing him back into the wall.

He slid down the stone and onto the floor, barely feeling some rough edge poke into his back hard enough to draw blood.

"YOU MADE ME LEAVE HER! YOU FUCKING COWARD PIECE OF SHIT! YOU MADE ME LEAVE HER! I COULD HAVE SAVED HER!"

"You would only have managed to get yourself captured as well," Severus said, speaking softly, "I regret it deeply, but-"

"LIAR! I'D HAVE-"

"Mate," his alternate said, "there was nothing you could have done. Nothing. We were massively outnumbered, and-"

"Easy for you to say," He snarled, "when everything turns out fucking peachy for you! I could have-I should-YOU FUCKING MADE ME LEAVE HER! HOW COULD YOU?!"

"I did what I had to," Severus said, finally breaking his gaze, "I wish I didn't, but there was no better option. She is still alive-"

He threw back his head and cackled, feeling his mind inching toward the breaking point.

"Alive? Haven't we heard all about what they do in this fucking place? They'll want information from her! Alive isn't what I'm worried about, it's what fucking state she's in!"

"Harry, you need-"

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT I NEED! I NEED YOU TO GIVE ME MY WAND, AND THEN I NEED TO GET OUT OF THIS PLACE!"

"I won't permit you to throw your life away in a selfish attempt to escape the pain. I won't."

Harry spluttered, staring at Severus.

"Selfish? I'll-I'm going to save her!"

"You are one man. Injured. You have no idea where she is being held, or how many guards there are."

"I can't just leave her there," he begged, "I can't. I need to go, you have to let me, I-"

Snape put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Harry. But I won't let you do this. I won't."

His rage changed abruptly, turning into a sorrow so deep it encompassed everything in his being.

He started weeping, shaking back and forth with his sobs, spluttering out denials as he did.

After a short eternity, the tears stopped flooding.

He stood up slowly, looking at Severus and his alternate through blurry eyes.

"I know it's difficult," the other him said, "but you need to think about what Hermione wants, and-"

The rage returned, enveloping him in its fire.

His hand shot out before either of them could react, colliding harshly with his alternate's face.

Something crunched under his fist.

He lashed out with his other hand, getting Severus right in the belly before he could cast anything.

His alternate dropped to the floor clutching at his face.

"YOU KNOW NOTHING! SO FUCKING EASY FOR YOU, MR. EVERYTHING TURNED OUT PERFECTLY FOR ME! YOU KNOW NOTHING!"

He kicked out, hitting the other version of him in the shoulder and moving him along the floor.

"JUST BECAUSE EVERYTHING WENT SO WELL FOR YOU-"

He'd pulled back his leg to kick again when his alternate spoke, hands raised plaintively above his head and voice coming out in a gasp.

"They got Ron too."

He hesitated, foot in an awkward, half-raised position.

"He jumped in front of-of me. The version of us here, he cast something, some net-"

"They call it the Net of Hephaestus," Severus said, "from the way you described it, that's what it was."

"And Ron jumped in front of me. He got trapped in it. They all-they all were about to catch me too. Ron told me to go. So I did."

Slowly, he lowered his foot.

"Just-you're not the only one struggling. We'll get them back. We'll get them back. We have to."

"Luna has a spy in the Death Eaters," Severus said, "he may be able to at least give us some information. We're not giving up on them, Harry. We're not giving up on her."

He dropped onto the floor, threw his head back, and began to laugh.

Laugh or cry, he wasn't quite sure.

* * *

 _Ginny Potter_

"Try it now."

She rolled her shoulder and smiled, feeling no pain.

"That's great, Luna. Thanks."

Luna beamed at the compliment, leaning over and hugging her again.

Luna's constant attention, her nonstop need for physical contact would have felt smothering, in any other situation.

Right then, however, she was more than glad to take whatever comfort she could.

She and Hermione had followed Luna and Rolf to an empty room where they could finish their healing.

Harry had gone with Snape to wake up his alternate and try to keep him under control.

Something told Ginny that would be far easier said than done.

She glanced over to Hermione, sitting quietly under Rolf's ministrations.

Ginny shuddered, seeing Hermione's silent grief. She hadn't said a word, since Harry had arrived and told them what happened.

Hadn't cried, moaned, complained, or said a word. She just stared blankly, responding to questions with nods and shakes of her head.

It was beyond terrible. Unnatural, so unlike Hermione.

Honestly, Ginny had no idea what she'd do in her position.

Of course, she was suffering from Ron's capture too. He was her brother, the sibling closest to her in age, her husband's best friend. She didn't even have words for the pain she was feeling to know that he was being interrogated by a monster.

Nor did she have words that could express the guilt, created by that tiny feeling of relief that it had been him and not Harry.

She turned her thoughts away, searching for something else to think about, to distract herself.

"How'd you get to be such a good healer?" she asked, "do you work for St Mungo's?"

"No," Luna said with a bitter smile. "I work for the Daily Prophet. I've just had lots of practice. Lots and lots."

"In our world, you do midwifery. You actually helped me give birth to my two youngest."

"Really?"

Ginny nodded. "And you write the Quibbler, and you and Rolf have been putting together a book of children's stories. I actually read some of them, they're quite excellent. Nellie the Nargle, and Cerebax the Crumple-Horned-"

"None of those things are real," Luna said.

Ginny looked up, at a loss for words.

Luna's eyes were brimming with tears, pits full of sorrow that were about to overflow.

"Not real," Luna repeated in a whisper.

"In-in our world, you-"

"I used to think they were. I guess...when you're a little girl, and your mother dies, and all you have left are her bedtime stories, you hang on to them. You pretend they're true, because then everything's all right, because then a bit of mummy stays with you, a little bit of invisible, impossible joy. You pretend that they're true, even though you know they aren't."

Ginny swallowed, her mind completely blank. No clever comforting words came to mind, no meaningless platitudes to save her from listening.

"And after enough pretending, you start to believe it. A part of you, a part still knows them for what they are; a coping mechanism, a way to not break down, a way to still see light in the world. But it knows that if you pretend enough, there will be light, and the world will make sense."

Tears started to drip down Luna's face, somehow enhancing her beauty.

"But then, you need to make horrific decision after horrific decision. You need to do what's best for many people, even though it hurts a few. You turn aside people that you could help because it might endanger you. And if you're lost, so many others will be as well. And slowly, day by day by day, you lose the ability to pretend that there's good in the world."

"Luna, I'm-"

"And then," Luna continued, paying her interruption no mind, "you're sitting with a seven-year-old girl and her four-year-old brother. You know that you can't get them to safety and that you can't keep them with you for too long. So you teach them that they're people, they're not animals, that no-one but them has the right to decide what happens to them, what happens to their bodies. And you teach them how to survive in hiding, and you pretend that it'll help, you pretend that they'll manage. But they don't, and so you need to pretend some more. You pretend it was an experiment, that you wanted to see what the stupid muggles would do. And _he_ knows that you're lying, and you know that _he_ knows, but if you can just pretend, then everything will be fine."

She didn't try to interrupt again. Spellbound, she waited while Luna rubbed her face before carrying on.

"But it isn't fine. Because _he_ doesn't want to hurt you, but _he_ knows that you were lying. Doesn't want to hurt you, but you wish that _he_ would, you wish that _he_ would just kill you and let you be free, you wish that you had jumped. But you aren't killed. No. _He_ takes you, and makes you watch while they-while they play with her. And you wish that she was dead and free, that she was dead and wasn't feeling. And you're happy that it's her and not you. And you have to smile and pretend that everything's exactly like it should be."

Luna stopped for a moment, breathing heavily, tears streaming down her face.

"And then you realize," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper, "that there's no such thing as Nargles. No such thing as Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, no such thing as Quiplos and Zygonauts. There's no secret joy floating around. The world doesn't make sense, and there's no light in it. There's only pain. And the people feeling the pain, they're too small, too scared, too hurt and broken to make it stop. There's nothing but pain."

Her last words seemed to hang in the air as Luna straightened up, her face a blotchy red mess.

The door opened, saving Ginny from having to think of a way to respond.

Harry, Snape, and the other Harry walked in.

She gasped. Harry's nose and cheek were bruised, a purple flower blooming across his face.

Pincer-like marks showed on the bridge of his nose, where his glasses had obviously been crushed.

The other Harry had blood on his knuckles.

She almost screamed, just barely managed to stop herself from drawing her wand.

They walked together, the three of them, the other Harry limping slightly.

"Luna," he called, "Please, please, if there's anything your spy can do, anything...please ask him. Please."

Luna closed her eyes, sighing deeply.

"I'll try. I'll try."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

"Well, Mudblood? Last chance, what do you have to say?"

"Please, Hermione. Pl-please, please, just-just tell them, just tell them, please-"

Granger just sat there like a useless lump, crying quietly.

"Ah, well. Looks like she doesn't really care about you, weasel. Go ahead, Bella."

"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!"

Weasley's screamed denials dissolved, fading into a wordless screech as Bella slashed her wand and severed his ruined left foot.

It separated cleanly, coming away from his leg with a spray of hot blood.

Unfazed, Bellona waved her wand, cauterizing the bleeding stump.

Harry Silenced Weasley, grabbed the foot and threw it at Granger's face.

"SEE WHAT YOU MADE ME DO? MUDBLOOD CUNT! TELL ME WHAT I WANT TO KNOW!"

"You should make her eat it," Bella said, vicious laughter bubbling in her voice, "that's what I'd do, at least."

"What do you think about that, Mudblood? That's the only food you'll get until we hear you talk."

Granger spat at Daphne.

"Stupid whore," she muttered, raising her wand, "you just don't get it yet, do you?"

Someone knocked on the door.

"Bella, give him a break for a bit. Help your mother. Hurt her, but don't break her or do anything too permanent."

He walked over to the door, lifting the hem of his robes out of the puddles of blood as he did.

He opened it, and found Scorpius Malfoy there, holding a bundle of parchment.

"Sorry, I know I'm interrupting, but I've got a bunch of stuff for you, thought it'd be better if I brought it sooner rather than later."

"No problem," he said with a grin, "actually works out quite well. What's going on?"

Granger screamed. He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"First," Scorpius said, handing over the parchment, "here's the report from the healers, and the list of the dead,"

Harry started scanning the list, shaking his head at the amount of fallen. Over twenty lost, on what should have been a simple mission.

' _When I get hold of Luna... years of kindness, and this is how she shows her gratitude?'_

"The Peruvians have put out the alert. Everyone there's on the lookout for the Scamander kids."

He nodded, waving his hand.

"Security's been upgraded in the Department of Mysteries, and Rookwood's had a guard detail assigned to him. He complained a bit, at first, but gave in soon enough."

Harry snorted.

"The trackers, they're having issues. They say they must have been Apparating in lots of little jumps before going to their destination. They said it's gonna take a few days."

"A few days?"

"They said, with all of the intruders jumping to different places, it makes it much harder to track. All the traces are jumbled and mixed up."

"Fine. Fine. We'll find out soon enough, anyway. Anything else?"

"My dad, he says that without dipping into next year's taxes, they can give sixty. And he said that they've started working through the Lovegood and Scamander vaults, and he'll let you know if there's anything out of the ordinary."

Harry nodded. "Thanks. Hey, you want to join us for a bit? She's pretty close to breaking..."

Scorpius glanced at his watch and hesitated for a moment before shrugging.

"What the hell. I've got a few minutes."

Harry clapped him on the back.

Scorpius really was a good kid. Earnest, hard-working, well-organized.

Harry had once actually thought about trying to set him and Bellona up.

All things considered, he was glad he'd never done it.

' _Still need to talk to her. Fuck, it has to wait. Way too much going on right now.'_

Scorpius followed him back into the room.

The Mudblood was leaning back as far as she could, trying to tilt her head as much as possible, desperately trying to move it away from the needles slowly inching their way closer to her eye.

"Hey. Scorpius gets a chance too."

Daphne turned around, the needles falling as she lowered her wand.

"Scorpius!" She called with delight, "it's been far too long since you've last visited your favourite aunt and uncle."

"You're my only aunt and uncle," he said, an easy smile spreading across his face, "and I've been meaning to come, just been busy lately."

"Selene just doesn't give you a break, does she?"

Scorpius rolled his eyes, walking forward and drawing his wand.

"God, you can't believe how clingy she's become. Now she's talking about marriage."

Bella started to laugh, cackling wildly until she was out of breath.

"It'll happen to you one day," Scorpius warned, "Just you wait. Anyway, which one are we busy with?"

Harry looked between the prisoners, debating.

Weasley was practically unconscious. It would be nice to wake him up in agony.

But Granger was watching, with her cold, terrified eyes.

"The Mudblood. The girl."

Scorpius nodded, slashing his wand.

"CRUCIO!"

The Mudblood screamed out a symphony of torment, her body spasming in her bonds, foam starting to build up on her lips.

Scorpius was shaking too, his eyes half rolled back in his skull, trembling with visible ecstasy.

Her screaming went on, and on, and on.

"Scorpius, enough."

He didn't lower his wand.

"ENOUGH!"

With a jerk, Scorpius's arm fell, the curse ending.

Granger's screams began to dwindle, as Scorpius raised a trembling hand and wiped at his sweaty forehead.

"Sorry," he muttered, "I just-"

"Got caught up in it. No problem, as long as she isn't FUCKING BROKEN!"

She was still jittering and moaning, the after-effects of the curse still moving her form.

Her right eye was nearly as red as Harry's own, but mercifully, her eyes weren't clouded like those of a body with a broken mind.

"No harm done," he said, "she's okay."

Scorpius closed his eyes in palpable relief.

"I think we'll carry on. Scorpius, please go to Rookwood, get me a report on Damien and Cyrus' progress with the brooms."

Scorpius nodded to them all and left the room, still shivering slightly.

"Fucking rookie," Bella snarled, "idiot needs to practice more."

' _Definitely a good thing that they never got together.'_

"Let's go back to the weasel. Start on the rest of his leg."

"No, please," Granger begged, "Please, please don't."

"You know the only way to stop it from happening. It's all up to you, Mudblood. All up to you."

Granger closed her eyes, her muck-covered face twitching.

"We were g-going to the Forest of D-Dean. There's a-a large clearing, in the north of it. We were meant to m-meet there. S-someone would spot us, a scout. I swear that's it. That's where they went."

Excitement began to fill him, his body pulsing with it.

"Good girl. Good girl. You sure that's correct? That you wouldn't be sending us to the wrong place?"

"I swear, I swear, that's it, I swear! Please-"

He waved his wand, and a small cupboard in the corner of the room opened, a tiny vial full of clear liquid flying to his outstretched hand.

"Well, just to be sure, we're going to be testing you with Veritaserum. And then we'll have a Legilemens come and take a peek. Not that we don't trust you, you understand, we just need to be sure."

Granger began to sob hysterically, and Harry's smile grew until he thought his face would split.

* * *

 _Luna Lovegood._

Luna had known for a long time that she wasn't exactly sane.

She hadn't been lying when she told Director Potter that she saw her dead friends all of the time.

It was true, and it was one of the major reasons that she avoided crowds. She'd be walking along, and she'd hear a snatch of someone's voice or catch a glimpse of hair, and then she'd be running to find them.

Or she'd see their faces, disappearing just around a corner. Inevitably, when she reached there, they'd be gone.

Not just her friends. So many others as well. People who she'd tried to help but failed, people who she'd been forced to turn aside, muggles she'd caught a glimpse of in the street.

Sometimes, she thought she saw more imaginary people than real people.

And now, now her friends were here. Along with two Harry Potters, both of whom she was apparently friends with.

She had once thought Harry Potter was her friend. He'd once told her that he was. But he wasn't. He was no such thing.

Her friends. Ron and Hermione and Ginny.

But not Neville. No, not her Neville. She kept expecting him to appear, to suddenly just be there.

But he hadn't. And she knew that he wouldn't.

Poor Neville. Poor Ron. Poor Hermione. Poor Ginny.

And poor Luna, forced to watch them all go.

But now they were back.

Oh, they weren't her Hermione and Ron and Ginny. But they were by far the closest thing she could imagine. Because they were Hermione and Ron and Ginny.

She tried to keep reminding herself that this was real. That there was hope.

And that they weren't her Hermione and Ron and Ginny.

She tried.

Yes, Luna knew very well that she wasn't exactly sane. But she believed that anyone in her position, anyone forced to make the decisions that she had over the years, anyone who had been forced to live her double life. Well, they'd be just as mad as she knew herself to be.

Anyone who'd been forced to order the deaths of those they cared for would be.

She was in an empty room, Rolf standing guard outside.

Everything about the spy, even her communications with him had to be kept perfectly secret.

She thought of them, as she always did. Thought of Neville, and Ginny, and Hermione, and Ron. She remembered sitting together in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, as they returned to London at the end of her second year.

They'd been so foolishly happy then. None of them had the faintest idea of the horrific darkness that was approaching.

They'd been happy, she and her friends.

She thought of them, and concentrated hard.

The method of making a speaking Patronus was the greatest gift she'd ever received. Without it, she'd have been lost, hundreds, if not thousands of times.

She concentrated as hard as she could, remembering what it was like to be happy.

"Expecto Patronum!"

As always, her spirits lifted when the silvery hare came into view.

She laughed as it hopped over to her, rubbing its head against her hand.

"I need you to find the Demiguise," she said, "and I need you to make sure that he's alone before approaching him. And I need you to tell him..."

She closed her eyes, mentally going over the message she was to give. A tear slipped out her eye, and the hare shimmered for a second before regaining its form.

"Tell him this: I need to know everything about Rookwood's current security level, and whether you can help us capture him. I know you've been unable to do such things before, but if we get him we'll be able to be free from the Empire, free from the need for secrets."

Her breath hitched before she could continue, and she barely managed to keep from bursting out crying.

"The prisoners they captured cannot be allowed to be used against us. I need- I need you to rescue them. And if you can't, I need you to-to kill them."

She nodded at the hare.

It turned away from her, hopping straight through the wall, making the room colder and bleaker with its departure.

Yes, anyone who had to make the decisions she did would undoubtedly go mad.

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	6. 6--Interlude I

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Interlude I

 _4 May 2028_

 _Albus Severus Potter_

The last few days felt like a dream. They blurred together in his mind, the exact sequence of events somehow cloudy and unclear.

In a strange way, it felt like it had been months since his parents and aunt and uncle hadn't shown up at the Memorial Ceremony two days previously.

They'd all been worried, of course, but not frantic. Not at that point.

It was irresponsible of them, and very unlike Aunt Hermione, but it wasn't too crazy to imagine the four of them deciding to ditch it.

It was when none of them had arrived at Granny and Grampa for lunch that everyone started to truly worry.

It was then that Granny had checked the Clock, and the panic had begun.

Albus had seen pictures of the original Weasley Family Clock, back when it just had Granny, Grampa, and all their kids on it.

Over the years, they'd expanded, adding in hands for all of the spouses and grandchildren as well.

Albus' parents' hands, along with those of Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, were all aimed at the point on the clock labelled 'Mortal Peril.'

And that was when the blur in his memory started. With everyone shouting, Granny crying, the Aurors coming in and questioning them.

Then the Unspeakables had come.

Scorpius leaned over, giving his shoulder a squeeze and whispering in his ear.

"Relax. Just try to relax."

He breathed in deeply, looking around the room again.

They were gathered in the Burrow's living room: Granny and Grampa, all of his aunts and uncles, James and Cindy, Scorpius with him, Lily and Justin, Teddy and Victoire, Rose and Terry, Hugo and Barbara. Aunt Hermione's parents were there too, sitting next to Granny and whispering to one another.

All of them, waiting for Assistant-Chief Unspeakable Croaker to begin speaking.

"Is everyone here? Are we still waiting for any family members?"

"All present," Grampa said, "at least, all of us that'll be here for this."

"Good, good."

The diminutive Unspeakable looked around the room before nodding and clasping his hands together.

"Before we begin, I must confirm: everyone has taken an Oath of Secrecy, yes?"

At their assent he smiled, clapping his hands together.

"Good. Most irregular, all of this, but under the circumstances... I must begin with some background. Several months ago, an object was found, buried near Stonehenge. This object, to be precise."

Croaker tapped the photograph before him with his wand, making a large holographic version of it appear in mid-air.

"As you can see," he continued, "it's coated in Runes. This photograph was taken yesterday, and so the Runes are stationary. This photograph," he tapped a different picture, and another image appeared in the air, floating beside the first one. It showed the same object, the strange silvery infinity symbol. But the Runes on it were shifting constantly, moving through a dazzling, non-stop display.

"This photograph, the second one, was taken a week ago. And as you can see, the Runes were changing constantly. In the months that we were studying this device, they never stopped their motion. Until, as we have begun to refer to it, the Event."

 _'Can you just get to the bloody point already?'_

"We had barely made any headway in understanding the device, which is why Chief Weasley removed it from the Department. Her intention was to take it with her to Hogwarts, where she planned on asking Professors Flitwick and Babbling their opinions, as well as showing it to the portraits of the former Headmasters."

"What do you actually know about this thing?" Uncle Bill asked.

"Very little. We have barely any real idea when it was created, for instance. Our best estimations are currently ranging from twelve hundred years before the formation of the Henge all the way up to approximately four hundred years after that. Some of the writings found with it are in a dialect of Old English that-"

"Do the writings with it give you any idea what it does?" James asked.

Croaker nodded, looking tenser than he had until then.

"The writings with it were very...unclear and terse, to say the least. But we believe, based on them and other evidence, that the device opens a-a pathway, if you will, to an alternate dimension. An alternate world."

No-one made a sound.

Albus found himself squeezing his fists tightly enough that the nails were cutting into his skin.

He wished he could laugh it off, wished he could just not believe it.

"That's just science-fiction mumbo jumbo," Aunt Hermione's father said, looking around the room with a confused, hopeful expression. "That's not real. Right?"

Croaker sighed, turning toward the man.

"I understand that in the Muggle world, the concept of parallel universes is still seen as belonging in the realm of fiction. In our world, however, we have enough evidence to firmly support the theory."

Everyone started talking at once.

Albus leaned back on the sofa, his head feeling like it had been stuffed full of cotton wool, the hubbub of the Weasley family's shouting and arguing washing over him.

"Albus? Are you ok?"

He managed a weak smile, turning to Scorpius' worried face.

"Course I am. Course. It makes perfect sense. Don't know why I wasn't expecting it. My parents have been transported to some different damn world. Perfectly obvious."

For some reason, they only made Scorpius look even more anxious.

"WHY ARE THEY IN DANGER?"

Croaker wrung his hands, cringing back from Granny's shout.

"I-we don't know. We can't know anything about this other world that they've gone to, not unless we send someone else, or until they come back! And we don't know how to activate the device!"

"How did they activate it?" Uncle Bill demanded. "Something like that would need a trigger, can't have been an accident."

"We think that in whatever world they've travelled to, the people there did something to activate it. We really don't know enough to say, not yet."

"What are you doing to change that?" Granny snarled.

"We've called in all the top minds in the wizarding world! Pictures of the device have been sent to the experts in Runelore across the globe, we have experts in Magical Theory coming in from everywhere, and we've diverted everyone available from all other projects! The device, it's being studied twenty-four hours a day, by the best people at this sort of thing."

Granny seemed to deflate, her righteous anger emptying and her expression changing to one of sorrowful hope.

"We will get to the bottom of this," Croaker promised, "but it may take us time. I assure you, we are doing everything we can."

"Have you tried scrying?" Uncle George asked suddenly, "or anything like that?"

"Of course we have," Croaker answered, looking affronted. "But it's been of no real use. We keep seeing places in our world, empty locations. We believe that we are seeing places in our world, where they are in this other world."

"What," Grampa asked, clearing his throat, "what could be so dangerous in this other world? Why are they in mortal peril?"

Croaker glanced at the Clock, held tightly in Granny's hands.

"We honestly don't know enough to say. Not even-"

"You must know something!" James called, "this is your bloody work!"

"We have no idea how history played out in that world. It could be something as bizarre as-as-"Croaker seemed to be searching for inspiration, his eyes shooting around the room frantically. "As bizarre as Erkizdis having succeeded in his experiments, and Dementors outnumbering humans! It could be that the muggles went to nuclear war in the sixties! It could be that-that Grindelwald emerged from his duel victorious. Or-or it could be that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named won. We simply don't know."

A suffocatingly thick silence fell upon the room.

 _'Well, fuck.'_

* * *

 _James Ronald Remus Potter_

"I must apologize for the delay," Croaker said, "I thought we had a copy of Professor Dumbledore's portrait available. I had to go all the way to the Alchemy department."

"No problem," James said, extending a hand and plastering a false smile across his face.

Lily didn't even bother getting up from the sofa.

"As I mentioned earlier, I believe we have further information that is worth sharing. And it is to that end that I have brought this portrait of Professor Dumbledore."

Croaker reached into his bag and pulled out a gilt-framed portrait.

Albus Dumbledore blinked out at them owlishly, peering through his spectacles.

"Mr. Potter, Ms. Potter," he murmured, "a pleasure to see you both again. A true pity that the circumstances could not have been better."

James swallowed, nodding at the portrait.

He'd never known the real Albus Dumbledore, but he'd heard enough about the man from his parents to have mixed feelings toward him.

"Professor Dumbledore, along with the other portraits in the Headmaster's office, witnessed what occurred. As I've explained, the artefact somehow facilitated your parents' and Headmaster Snape's travel to an alternate world."

"Do you have any more information about this other world?" Lily asked, her voice thick and choked.

"We have inferences that we can make. Professor, if you please?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely, sitting slightly straighter in his painted chair.

"First, please be aware that this was not a field I was particularly involved with during my lifetime. I read some of the papers on it but was not personally involved. Furthermore, I was, obviously, unable to physically interact with the artefact myself. I can tell you what I saw, and what I have been led to believe, but nothing beyond that."

"We can't ask more than that," James said.

"Indeed. Well, your mother brought the artefact to Severus for him to test, due to his vast knowledge and experience with the Dark Arts. This much you already know, I'm sure.

She asked me if I had seen its like. I responded, truthfully, that I hadn't, nor had I heard of it. And Severus began his testing."

Dumbledore paused, an unreadable expression flitting across his face.

"We, that is to say, portraits, we cannot feel as living people can. We are but memories, more akin to ghosts than to the humans we once were. We cannot feel, not truly. But I felt a shadow of foreboding. Severus said that he could sense a hunger from the artefact. A hunger for blood."

The muscles in James' face tightened, his jaw clenching until it started to hurt.

"Severus checked the artefact," Dumbledore continued, "ending his tests with some Blood Magic."

"Could it-"

"Please, Mr. Potter. Allow me to conclude, and I will answer all of your questions. All, that is, that I am capable of."

He gave a begrudging nod, blindly reaching out and giving Lily's hand a squeeze.

"When his blood hit the artefact, it sunk in and disappeared, and the artefact glowed. Not very brightly, mind you. The glow faded after a few minutes, and Severus rendered his verdict."

Dumbledore stopped again, a clear look of consternation across his face.

"He said, in his own words, that the artefact wanted more. That in order to activate it, they would require a true blood sacrifice. An innocent."

James closed his eyes tight, images from the terrible books he'd perused for his Mastery in Defensive Magic flitting before his eyes.

"And then the device, it lit up, blindingly bright. A beam of light shot out into them, and a few moments later, they were gone. But I saw..."

Dumbledore coughed, raising a hand to wipe at his eyes.

"I was not alone in this," he said "all the other portraits, they all saw it as well. In the moment after your parents and Severus vanished, we saw something. A man, with a dead body before him, standing before a table. And on that table, the artefact stood. Just for a moment, and the image was gone."

"You think that someone from another world actually-actually sacrificed someone for it?" He asked, managing to sound far calmer than he felt.

"I do."

"You don't think that Severus' experiment could have triggered something?"

"Your mother was most insistent that it could not. She told Severus that a part of the artefact was not even present and that they had experimented with blood magic beforehand."

"We did," Croaker said, "we did the same thing Severus did, and nothing happened. And like she said, one part of the artefact was in the Department while the other was in the Headmaster's office."

"So they're in another world," Lily said, "and it's one where the people there are comfortable with killing people for-for experiments."

"So it would seem."

"We're doing everything that we can," Croaker said, "we've got the top minds studying the artefact, we have guards posted around it twenty-four seven. And once your parents and Severus have returned, we're going to destroy it."

"Do you really think they will?" James asked, keeping his eyes tightly shut. "That they'll find a way back? Honestly?"

"Mr. Potter. Your mother is one of the most intelligent people I ever had the fortune of meeting, in my long and adventurous life. Your father and Severus are both extremely talented wizards, in the fields of combat and many other areas. All three of them are resourceful and adaptable individuals, who have made their way out of terrible situations in the past. I don't believe I'm offering false hope when I say that yes, I truly believe that they'll make their way home."

He opened his eyes, looking at Dumbledore's guileless face.

"How long?" Lily asked.

"That, no one can know. I'm sorry. I know this must be extremely difficult for you two. James, when do Ilvermoney want you back there?"

"I need to be in the school second week of August. To start preparing. So I need to be leaving here in the first week."

"What do we do?" Lily asked, "Do we tell our grandparents? They haven't realized anything's up yet, but mum's great about seeing them at least once a week..."

"You two will have to figure that out. I believe that honesty is the best policy. But you two must decide."

He looked over at Lily, far more exhausted than even the jet-lag could account for.

"They'll be back," Croaker said, sounding confident, "you'll see, they'll be back."

"I hope you're right." James murmured.

* * *

 _The Demiguise_

If, ten years previously, someone had told him that he'd be in this situation, he'd have laughed them off, thinking them totally insane.

That is, if he wouldn't have tried to kill them.

Ten years. That's all it took to go from being a wonderful son, a loyal subject of the Empire, to being the worst type of traitor.

Ten years, from being someone who unquestionably accepted the way of life he'd been brought up in, to a person who was doing his best to tear it down.

It hadn't happened in an instant. There had been no sudden realization, no revelation.

No, it had been like pebbles. Pebbles, falling down a cliff one by one, dislodging dozens of others with their descent.

Gradually gaining speed and weight, hundreds of minuscule pebbles gathering dirt as they fell, crashing into larger rocks until an entire mountainside was unrecognizable.

Just small things, building up.

Until he became someone he couldn't even recognize anymore.

Someone who lied to all his friends and family, someone whose girlfriend believed he was someone he wasn't.

Someone who woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, shaking from the dreams where he'd been caught.

Frankly, he blamed his brother.

As well as he could trace, it had all started in that damn summer, after second year.

One of his older brother's friends had a brilliant idea, something to keep them entertained.

There were many muggle buildings in London that weren't totally destroyed. They'd been completely cleared of their inhabitants, and some of them were little more than ruins, but they were still standing.

So why not explore them?

His parents had signed off on the idea, resignedly allowing them to do so. After all, his father worked in London, so he could check in on them, and they all had their wands.

And his brother had invited him.

At first, it had been fun.

At first.

All in all, they'd done it for about two weeks before they got too bored.

And it was on the last day of those two weeks that he'd found it.

That day was as clear in his mind as yesterday was. In fact, he was sure he'd never be able to forget it.

It had been when he'd first consciously set one of the pebbles rolling.

He had been alone in the Muggle apartment, in one of the buildings that were the least damaged.

He remembered it so clearly, the dust coating every surface, the broken living room. The strange emotions that had swirled up when he looked at the cracked photographs of a smiling family.

He'd walked around there, searching for anything cool to take and show off, ignoring the growing trepidation, not knowing what he was setting in motion.

He'd wandered the house, and he'd ended up in a room which must have once been a nursery.

There was a cot and changing table.

In the cot was a mould-coated teddy bear, it's glass eyes staring at him as he had reached in.

He'd reached into the cot, and pulled out the little book inside.

It had clearly been well-loved, once upon a time. Forgotten for years though it had been, the small note in faded ink in the front page and the dog-eared pages spoke volumes.

He'd stared at the book for what felt like hours, the cogs in his mind relentlessly turning.

It had been nothing special. He still couldn't quite put his finger on it; on what about that small book had made such an impression on him.

It was only a book of the alphabet, with blurry, unmoving pictures representing each of the letters.

But he'd stared at it, his mind whirring, the imagined sounds of a muggle child long since dead or sold ringing in his head.

And he could still remember thinking: _'I had one just like that.'_

He'd stood there, in the ruins of a room where a child had once slept, engrossed until his brother called him.

And though he had left the room, something about that room had never left him.

It had been the first of many pebbles, the first of many moments when he realized something was terribly wrong with everything he believed and knew to be true. Animals didn't give their children books to read, to teach them how to live.

And even if muggles really were nothing more than animals, did that make anything right?

He'd tried to ignore those thoughts. He'd tried, over and over, to tell himself that might makes right, that the strong should do with the weak as they wish.

He'd tried. Oh, how he tried.

But eventually, as the years and incidents piled up, as the pebbles turned into a full-blown landslide, he'd accepted it for what it was.

As he found the old books and saw more of the true history of the world, as he realized what a nightmare this so-called utopia was, he'd accepted it for what it was.

An atrocity. Everything his parents had fought for, the whole damn society he was expected to take part in; it was nothing less than one enormous fucking atrocity.

He'd accepted the truth, but had been far too much of a coward to do anything about it.

He'd planned on doing something with his life that wouldn't require his being a total monster. That wouldn't require him to torture and kill indiscriminately. Maybe he would work for the Bank, or open a store, but he wouldn't be killing innocent people.

At least, that had been his plan, until he'd been forced to walk a different path.

He glanced across the room, to the dresser against the wall.

And the Phoenix perched upon it.

That fucking bird. Everything was its fault. It had come to him, somehow knowing about his internal crisis, knowing just the right buttons to push.

It had shown him images of the past, of how happy the average witch and wizard were before they were forced to live in fear. It had shown him muggles, as they had been before they were reduced to slaves and experiments. It had cajoled him into becoming a traitor in action, not just in thought.

"Why did you have to come to me?" He whispered, staring into its flaming plumage, "I was happy before!"

It cocked its head, piercing him with its deep eyes.

 _'No you weren't,'_ it said, speaking into his mind as it always had, _'you were just pretending.'_

He couldn't argue with that.

Sometimes, he wondered if the bird had driven Albus Dumbledore as mad as it seemed set on driving him.

He raised his wand, concentrating.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A ghostlike Phoenix appeared. Fawkes fixed his gaze upon it.

That was another thing. If anyone were to see his Patronus, he'd have some very tough questions to answer.

 _'It's beautiful. You shouldn't be ashamed of it.'_

He snorted, ignoring the bird.

"Find Luna," he told his Patronus, "lead her to somewhere private. Tell her this: The alarm has been raised, all across the Empire. Peru is on the highest alert, but they're gathering the Dementors and Vampires everywhere, and they're looking for you. They've also got werewolves working with the trackers in the area you guys were headed to. Rookwood has three guards assigned to him at all times. They're careful, making sure their replacements have arrived before leaving. The prisoners are likewise guarded, when they're not being interrogated."

He closed his eyes, nostrils flaring.

"Is it worth it? Worth me risking my life? No matter what, I'll need time. A few days, at the very least. I thought I had a way to do it, but it fell through. If I try anything again too soon, it'll raise suspicion. Even without that, the chances of me being caught are very, very high. And the chances of me actually freeing them are very fucking low. Think about that, Luna. Think about that when you reply. Because if they catch me, they won't just kill me. They'll break me and re-educate me. Think about that."

He nodded at the silvery Phoenix, and it flew away.

He dropped back onto his bed, splaying his limbs out, feeling exhausted beyond belief and wishing that his brother had felt just a tiny bit more sibling rivalry.

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	7. Chapter 6--Time Flies, Knells Call

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Chapter 6—Time Flies, Knells Call

"The one thing you can't take away from me is the way I choose to respond to what you do to me. The last of one's freedoms is to choose one's attitude in any given circumstance."-Victor E. Frankl—Man's Search for Meaning

* * *

 _7 May 2028_

 _Hermione Potter_

Agonized screams woke her up.

Her head jerked forward, her eyes flying open.

They began to fill with tears as she took in the room around her.

Her cell.

A bare concrete room, empty save for the desk and chairs before her and a small cupboard behind her.

It was lit up from no visible source, as always.

A bowl of porridge sat on the desk, neatly laid out beside a saucer full of water.

 _'Fourth day. He'll be here soon, he'll be here!'_

She was reasonably certain it was the fourth day, at least.

Unless they'd gone a day without feeding her, it was the fourth day.

 _'They might have,_ ' she thought, anxiety building up as she stretched her neck forward, _'they really might have.'_

The food was her only real way of marking time. Her cell was windowless, and her captors hadn't shown any inclination of telling her how long she'd been there for.

The pain was constant, and she wasn't allowed to sleep for longer than what felt like a few hours.

For some reason, the thought of losing track of the days bothered her. Not as much as the thought of losing herself, of losing the last bit of hope she'd managed to keep, but it bothered her, still.

She bent her head forward uncomfortably, lapping at the water.

The first time they'd left the food for her, she hadn't even known what to do. With all her brilliance, it hadn't occurred to her that she should act like a dog.

They'd come in eventually and laughed when they realized.

Then they'd vanished the food.

The next day, she hadn't been able to hold out against her hunger pangs. All thoughts of dignity went out the window, cast aside under starvation's spell.

She leaned her head back, unable to hold it in that position for too much longer.

Bits of porridge dripped down her chin.

She realized what they were trying to do. What they were trying to accomplish, by forcing her to eat like an animal, by making her wear dirty robes and sit in her own waste until the smell disgusted them.

They were trying to break her, to make her feel like she was nothing, a subhuman.

She couldn't do more than to pretend that they had succeeded.

All she had to do was pretend they'd broken her and give them what they wanted. Only until Harry could come for her.

He'd come. She knew he would. He wouldn't let her down.

Not like she'd let Ron down.

She stifled a sob, holding her sorrow deep within.

She'd had no choice. She couldn't just give up and tell them what they wanted, she couldn't!

And she'd wanted to lie, so she'd needed to make it seem like she had reached the breaking point.

 _'And how well did that turn out? After everything you put him through, you couldn't even give them false information. Stupid disgusting Mudblood bitch!'_

She shook her head frantically, trying to block out the thoughts.

She leaned forward again, eating while she still had the chance.

That had almost broken her, having to watch as they tortured Ron.

Almost, but not quite.

Oh, it had been enough that she wouldn't try to hold back again, not with Ron on the chopping block.

Like the second time they'd brought him in.

They'd wanted her to give memories, her recollections from when she, Harry, and Severus had first travelled into this hell up until the moment she'd been captured.

So they had given her a wand, to draw the memories of out her head.

And with the monsters watching her, with their deranged daughter caressing Ron's destroyed leg, she'd given them without a moment's hesitation.

She hadn't even thought about trying anything, about attempting to turn the wand against them.

Ron, on the other hand, had.

They'd wanted him to give memories as well.

It was obvious why. They wanted to make assessments about the rest of those who had come into this world, they wanted to be able to analyse them.

She knew it, they knew it, and Ron knew it.

But Ron, broken as they'd tried to make him, hadn't been willing to give those memories up without a fight.

Somehow, even after everything they'd put him through, he was still so much stronger than she was.

He hadn't gotten off a spell before the wand was torn from his hand.

But the monsters had laughed and made jokes that turnabout was fair play.

Then they'd punished her.

A part of her still wondered whether that had been Ron's revenge: his way of getting back at her for what she'd put him through.

Not that she deserved any better.

Whatever Ron's motive had been, the result was hours of agony.

She thought it was hours. She wasn't sure. Time lost all its meaning under the influence of pain. Seconds could drag into eternity while she screamed, wishing that they'd stop, hoping that she'd die and that it would be over.

They'd punished her. She wasn't even sure of what half the spells they'd cast had been.

There'd been Cruciatus', and bone-breakers, flaying and burning.

There'd been that curse that made all of her skin so incredibly dry that any movement at all made it crack and bleed.

There'd been the piercing of her eardrums.

And there'd been what they did to her face.

She shuddered.

Her face.

 _'Don't think about it. There's a cure, a counter-curse. You know there must be. Don't get anxious about the things you can't do anything about. Don't!'_

She breathed deeply, burying the instinct to hyperventilate far within her mind, keeping it from taking control.

She breathed, keeping her eyes closed and her mind blank.

Then she finished her porridge.

She sat back, thinking.

Four days since she'd been taken and Harry hadn't come for her yet.

She knew it would only be a matter of time.

She hoped she'd be able to hold out until then.

 _'Stop thinking like that!'_

She knew he'd be there as soon as he could. As soon as he knew where she was, as soon as he had enough information about how she was being guarded, he'd come.

She hoped it would be soon.

Because if it wasn't soon, she really would break, she wouldn't be pretending anymore, she'd-

She jerked her head, angrily cutting that train of thought off.

Harry would be there for her as soon as he could. She just needed to make sure that she was doing the best that she could in the meantime.

And she was. She really was doing well, under the circumstances.

She'd managed to glean some information from the monsters, making inferences from their questions, drawing conclusions from the conversations they had between themselves when they thought she couldn't hear.

And she'd managed to slip some lies past them.

Nothing too major. Only when they were asking about the politics and history of her world and the personalities of her Harry and Severus. But still. She'd managed to slip some lies past them.

That was a success to be cherished.

It actually frightened her more than anything else, the questions they asked about her world.

At first, she'd believed that they just wanted to be able to understand her and the others better.

But that wasn't all they wanted, no.

She'd heard them, the abominable version of Harry talking to his wife.

She'd heard him saying how her world sounded like it would be harder for them to take than the other one.

They wanted to conquer her world.

Absurd as it was, they wanted to extend their Empire to alternate dimensions.

The thought of it, the thought of those monsters being in the same world as her children, turned her blood to ice.

So she tried. She tried to lie as much as she could when they asked her about the history and politics of her world. Little things. But little things that would add up and make her world seem more intimidating.

She really did try. But it was getting harder and harder, as time went on and her instincts screamed at her to do nothing to make the monsters angrier.

She tried, but they didn't give her time to think, didn't give her time to remember what she'd said before, to make sure she wouldn't be contradicting herself.

She tried, but she didn't know how much longer she could go on for.

The door to her cell opened.

Her heart began pounding, beating so hard and fast that she wouldn't have been surprised if it could have been heard by her visitor.

"Good morning, Mudblood. I see you've eaten. That's good. Important to keep your strength up."

She waited a moment before responding.

A tiny rebellion, one of the last that she allowed herself. She would never respond to that slur as quickly as she would to her name. Never. Not if she could help it.

"Yes, sir," she said, looking down, "thank you, sir."

She shivered, as the Harry Potter of this world stepped closer and took a seat across the table from her.

He was worse than his wife, that she was certain about. He was far, far more inventive, far more imaginative with his tortures.

In terms of pure pain and shame, the daughter was the worst. She had a look in her eyes, one that made Hermione feel like she was as insignificant as an ant. And she was entirely unpredictable, sometimes doing nothing other than giggling and hurting, other times sticking rigidly to the questions for which she wanted answers.

But in some ways, this Harry was worse. Sometimes, she'd catch a perfect resemblance to her Harry in him, in the way he spoke, the way he laughed, even the way he incanted.

Sometimes, she imagined it was her Harry peeking out at her, through those blood-red eyes and terrible, scarred face.

God, it felt like she'd been here for decades, not only four days.

Four days. She had to hold onto that. She had to keep track of the time, of how long it had been.

It was one of the few things keeping her sane.

"So, Mudblood. I've been thinking about what you said. That your weak version of me killed the Dark Lord. And I must say, I'm finding it rather hard to believe."

She didn't say anything. He hadn't asked a question.

"You see, your husband couldn't even beat me, and that was when he had others helping him. I just can't accept that he would defeat the greatest wizard of all time in a duel. No. So now, I want you to tell me the truth."

"It's what happened! I swear, I swear! Check my memory, I swear!"

"The Dark Lord can't simply be killed," he hissed, "so tell me the truth!"

 _'And now, to take a risk.'_

She took a deep breath, daring to wait before answering.

"We-we destroyed his Horcruxes. All of them. And when-when Harry fought him, he told him, and it distracted him. Just enough for Harry's spell to hit his. And his Killing Curse rebounded."

He was silent for a while, his terrible gaze fixed on her.

"You destroyed them all?" He asked quietly.

"All of them. The-the Diary, the Locket, the Snake, the Ring, the Cup, and-and the Diadem."

He smirked, the twist of his lips so reminiscent of her Harry when he'd done something clever that she almost started crying.

"Really? You got them all?"

She looked into his eyes and understood.

"He-Harry, he let Voldemort-"

Something smashed into her head, knocking her back, crushing her nose and bringing bright new agony to her poor face.

She heard the monster talking, as if from a great distance. Stars flashed before her eyes as she tried to concentrate, to listen.

"Don't say His name," he was saying, "don't you fucking dare it, Mudblood. You don't deserve it."

"I-"

It hit her again, whatever spell it was.

"Don't try to defend yourself, bitch. Just obey. Just fucking obey! Carry on with the story. Now."

"Harry let-let You-Know-Who kill him. But You-Know-Who had used Harry's blood when he made himself a body. So it-it kept Harry from dying properly. Only the-the piece of You-Know-Who's soul was killed. Harry wasn't."

"That's just absurd enough that I could believe it," he murmured.

Slowly, her vision cleared. She saw him, sitting with a thoughtful expression.

It tore at her heartstrings, just how close that expression was to her Harry's.

 _'I need to try. I have to. I have to.'_

She ran her tongue along her lips, wetting them.

Sweat started building up on her forehead.

"I-we could help you. Help you kill him. We-we destroyed his Horcruxes before, we could do it again. And you could be the Emperor. If you just let us go, we'll help you. You won't have to-have to serve him. You'll be in charge."

He said nothing for a long moment.

She began to wonder if it was going to work, just maybe it might, the need for power was always the downfall of the evil, so it might work, it might.

Then he started to laugh.

True laughter, not just an imitation. He laughed until he was shaking in his chair, wheezing as he ran out of breath.

"Oh, Mudblood," he said, wiping at his eyes, "Wow. You know, I really admire you. Most people would be far too demoralized to try anything like that. But not you. You're special. Your mind, it really is something special, isn't it?"

Her heart seemed to stop, her blood freezing in her veins.

"You're just so tenacious," he said with a chuckle. "You know, I was there when the Dark Lord killed the version of you from this world. He looked into your mind first. Even He said that you had an amazing mind. Incredible. Tenacious."

She was too scared to even think. Something about the casual way he spoke about her death chilled her, frightened her worse than she had been until that point.

"But with all your brilliance, you just don't fucking understand the concept of loyalty. It's simple. I owe everything to the Dark Lord. Everything. Everything I have, everything I am, it's all thanks to Him. If not for Him, I'd be no better than your weak twat of a husband, or that other one."

 _'You're not better than him! You're not, you're not!'_

"Even if I didn't feel that, you also don't realize that I'm very happy with my position. I don't want to be Emperor. I want to be doing exactly what I currently am."

"I-"

"And even if I wasn't," he continued, paying her attempt at speech no mind, "even if I did want to be Emperor, even if I felt no loyalty to Him. Even then, I still wouldn't be interested. Because I don't know if He used my blood to resurrect Himself, and I'm not risking my life on a maybe. And I do know that I could never have any hope of killing Him. He's a god, or the closest thing to one. You don't kill something like Him. It cannot be done."

"We managed," she whispered, suicidal bravery pushing her forward, "We managed. If we did it-"

"Ah, but that was many years ago, and in a different world. Things aren't the same here. And if I was so much weaker there, maybe He was too. No, Mudblood. I'm afraid I'm not interested in the slightest."

He smiled at her, and she felt something cracking, some emotional shield she'd put up to distance herself from this whole situation.

"I think we need to focus more on your attitude. On the fact that you haven't quite accepted your current position."

"I-"

He leaned forward suddenly, smile transforming into a snarl.

"Don't lie to me. You think you're so clever, with your little inconsistencies and your little attempts to filch information from us. You think you're so brilliant, trying to turn me against my Lord. You are nothing. Nothing but a worthless Mudblood bitch."

He waved his wand, making her flinch.

A mirror appeared, falling right into his hand.

"Look at yourself!" He ordered, holding it up, "Look!"

She did, helpless to ignore that tone.

As soon as her eyes fixed on her reflection, he hit her with a Full Body-Bind.

"See what you are? You're disgusting."

She was.

After Ron had tried to attack them, they'd really gone to work on her.

She'd never been vain about her appearance, but she had appreciated the fact that her face wasn't bad to look at.

Now it was.

It was covered in horrific burns, the skin all bubbly and sloughing. There were gashes and cuts, deep enough on her cheeks that only a tiny layer of skin prevented her from being able to see the inside of her mouth.

A chunk of her nose was missing, and her eyes were puffy and swollen.

And there were enormous boils, dotting her face like anthills.

Out the corner of her eye, she saw his wand rising.

One of the boils started growing larger, reaching the size of a golf ball.

Her heart thrumming in her chest, she watched as it popped.

Pain filled her face, but she was helpless to scream.

Helpless to do anything but watch, with growing horror, as the boil popped, and _things_ crawled out of the bloody pus contained within.

They looked like maggots, but bigger. White insects, covered in her bodily fluids.

They started crawling all around her face, pincers and antennae waving.

And she was utterly helpless.

One of them started burrowing into a thin flap of cheek, another crawled onto her ear. A third slowly made its way toward her right eye.

She sat there watching, feeling the pain as one finally managed to cut all the way through her cheek and fall into her mouth.

Feeling hysterical horror rise within her, drowning out all other sensations or thoughts, her mind inching toward the brink of insanity.

As one reached her eye and began to probe it, Harry waved his wand and removed the Body-Bind.

She spat as hard as she could, coughing and retching, shaking her head with all the force that she could muster, feeling them fall off of her body, needing to be sure, needing to rub her hands across her mutilated face, unable to do so.

She looked into the mirror, tears all but blocking her vision entirely.

Harry waved his wand, and the Body-Bind returned.

She could see the other boils growing.

And she could see shadows of things moving inside them.

 _'I'm going to lose my mind. When he pops the rest of them, when he lets the rest of those things out, I'm going to lose my mind. God, god, god, they're on me, they're IN me, they're swimming in my blood-'_

"Listen to me, Mudblood, and listen very well. You are nothing. The only use you've had is giving us the information we wanted, and helping us capture Weasley."

 _'No, no, it wasn't-I was unconscious, no, no, stop STOP STOP STOP!'_

"It's all thanks to you that we caught him, really. When you got knocked out, your husband ran to you. So Snape pulled him and Side-Along Apparated him. All of that distracted the other weakling. I almost got him, but Weasley got in the way."

She could barely even concentrate on his words. She was too busy staring at the mirror, watching frantically.

The other boils didn't seem to be growing any further, but they were at least double in size from what they had been before.

"It must be something inherent in you. Because in this world, you led Weasley and Longbottom into a trap. Oh, Longbottom was the leader. But you were the brains of that shitty group. You should have seen that it was a trap."

 _'That wasn't me, it wasn't me, not my fault, OH GOD IT WAS IN MY MOUTH!'_

"And I was there with the Dark Lord when He dealt with you. He actually let me kill Weasley. But do you know what happened, when He ended your stupid, meaningless little life?"

 _'It wasn't me, it wasn't me, it wasn't me, stop, please, it wasn't me!'_

"Absolutely nothing," he snarled, "nothing changed at all. The world carried on exactly the same. Because, Mudblood, You. Are. Nothing!"

With each of his last three words, he jabbed his wand forward, causing a boil to pop and its horrific contents to spill out.

 _'NO! NO! NO! GET THEM OFF GET THEM OFF GET THEM OFF ME!'_

His wand flashed again, as one of the insects climbed into the gaping hole in her nose.

A gout of fire washed over her face, and though it was excruciating, she was happy.

Happy, because when the flame vanished, there were no more creatures burrowing into her skin.

 _'He's going to break me,'_ she thought, the terrible realization settling in on her, feeling like a Dementor's presence. _'He's not going to stop until he's sure that I'm completely broken down.'_

"And your husband, he knows you're nothing," he continued, "hell, why do you think he hasn't come for you? He hasn't come for you, and you think he cares? If someone had taken Daphne, I'd face down an army for her. Because I really do love her."

 _'He's lying. It's all lies, it's all lies, it's all lies. I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!'_

"How did you even end up with him, anyway? I can't imagine there's a version of me anywhere who was really too useless to land a real woman. Unless...unless he was acting all honourable, taking pity on the poor Mudblood who could never marry anyone else."

He chuckled.

"It would be worth it, for him. You were quite pretty. That's probably it, right? You were just his little fucktoy. That's all. His little worthless living sex-doll."

 _'You know that's not true. You know that's not true, and that he's just trying to say whatever he can to hurt you, to make you feel vulnerable. I can't let him get to me.'_

"Just stop fighting it, and accept your place. Accept what you are. You're nothing. Nothing, Mudblood."

A wave of his wand and the Body-Bind fell.

Pent up tears came flooding down her face, and she could feel a scream building.

"What are you, Mudblood?"

 _'Don't. Don't give him what he wants. He's going to make you keep saying it until you come to believe it. That's his new goal.'_

She stayed silent.

Sudden fury contorted his features, and he jumped to his feet, slashing his wand.

"WHAT ARE YOU?"

Blood spurted out from her chest, a new cut to add to her litany of agonies.

She screamed, a wordless expression of pure pain and horror.

"WHAT ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU? FUCKING SAY IT! SAY IT, CUNT! WHAT ARE YOU?!"

His wand rose and fell, rose and fell, eliciting howls and screeches.

Until eventually, she could hold out no longer.

"I-I-I'm n-nothing."

Harry smiled.

 _'What if he doesn't come?'_

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror._

Harry walked through the tunnels, marvelling at what he saw and ignoring his thoughts.

The rebel hideout really was amazing.

It was an enormous series of underground tunnels and caverns, carved into rooms and halls.

All in all, there were about three hundred and fifty people there. Most of them witches and wizards, about fifty of them muggles, and about twenty-five centaurs and another three goblins, in addition to the one he'd met on his first day there.

They'd created a semblance of government for themselves, with their council making decisions for them. They had some people with training in fighting, and they taught the rest.

It really was amazing. They had indoor greenhouses, all rows of grains and vegetables. They even had chicken coops.

They had rooms for the centaurs, enchanted to seem exactly like the outdoors.

It was almost amazing enough to make him forget how he'd abandoned Ron.

As much as he told himself that he had no choice, as much as he told himself that Ron wanted him to go, that if he hadn't gone then both of them would have been caught, he still felt like a coward.

Even with what Hermione had said, he still felt that he'd done the wrong thing.

He'd tried to avoid her, as much as possible, from when they arrived at the hideout until the day before.

Then she'd cornered him.

She'd hugged him, and with a teary voice, had told him that he'd done nothing wrong and that she didn't blame him in the slightest.

And had threatened to hex him into next year if he didn't let go of the guilt.

The problem was, he might know intellectually that she was right, that he had done the only thing he could have.

But that still didn't stop him from feeling like he'd done the wrong thing.

Especially with Death Eaters in the area. He knew what that meant. Knew that they must have interrogated Ron and the other Hermione, forced them to talk.

And that terrified him. Because neither Ron nor Hermione were at all the type to give in under torture. Hell, Hermione had managed to lie to Bellatrix Lestrange once.

The fact remained, that the Death Eaters had found out about the well in the Culloden Forest. They'd made their way there and spread out, Death Eaters and werewolves and Dementors, all searching for the rebels.

Of course, the entire hideout was covered with the Fidelius. Of course, it was on lockdown, no one leaving the underground tunnels.

Still, it was a worry, with them closing in on the right general area, with them experimenting with ways to tear down a Fidelius from the outside.

It was certainly a worry, and it certainly meant that Ron or the other Hermione or both had cracked.

Still, this place was incredible enough that it almost distracted him from his worries.

As he walked through the tunnels, he passed people. Tightly-knit groups of muggles baring firearms and grim expressions, wizards and witches, some of whom he knew.

There was Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson, walking hand-in-hand. Oliver Wood talking to Gwen Truman, Augusta Longbottom with her walking stick, looking far more ancient than she did in his world.

None of them looked at him with anything other than confusion or mistrust.

He could understand where they were coming from, really.

The only Harry Potter that they knew was-was-was some type of monster beyond description. The more that he heard about his alternate from this world, the more convinced he became that Voldemort must have done something to change him.

He could imagine killing, in a righteous fury or in a fight. He'd had to a few times since he became an Auror. Every time weighed down on him, and every face was carved into his memory, but he could easily understand and appreciate the need to do that.

He couldn't understand how anyone could enjoy killing or torture. How anyone could possibly do it without feeling empty and terrible.

Even more than that, he couldn't imagine any version of him anywhere happily agreeing to serve Voldemort. To serve the man who'd tried to kill him, who'd killed his parents, who'd done so many horrific things to do many people.

No, he couldn't possibly understand that.

He stopped his stride, looking into the open room before him. It looked almost like one of the centaurs' rooms, covered in grass and lit up as if by the sun.

A large greenhouse stood in the centre of the room, surrounded by the bustle of ten or so wizards shrinking the contents and packing them into sacks.

He stood and stared for a minute, before shaking his head and continuing toward the council.

Everything in this world had turned out like a nightmare. Take what had happened to the goblins for example.

Now, he knew he didn't particularly like goblins. To be fair, no one except other goblins did. They were devious, untrustworthy, and bloodthirsty.

 _'And they probably think the exact same about wizards.'_

But that didn't make them worthy of eradication. Apparently, there were less than a hundred goblins still alive in this world, all in hiding.

All because the Goblin Nation had dared stand against Voldemort.

In this world, everything had turned out beyond terrible. And his alternate had been right at the forefront, helping Voldemort conquer and tortured and kill.

Even though his alternate had made Horcruxes and changed his appearance, they still looked similar enough.

So he could understand where they were coming from, why they stared at him, why they looked at him with fear and suspicion.

But understanding did not bring acceptance. Understanding did not stop the pained emotions he felt with each glance his way.

 _'I've gotten far too used to people admiring me. To be honest, it's probably about time I got my ego popped.'_

He smiled wryly, remembering how awkward he'd found the additional fame after the war, how long it took him after becoming Chief Auror to become comfortable with a simple press conference.

 _'God, how many times in school was everyone looking at me like that? Second year, fourth year, fifth year. You'd think I'd be used to it by now.'_

He came to a large steel door, guarded by a burly wizard and a centaur.

"Hi, guys. Mind if I go in?"

The wizard just rolled his eyes, but the centaur nodded, opening the door for him.

"Mr. Potter. Please, sit down."

He walked to the empty seat next to Ginny, giving her a weak smile as he settled in.

His alternate was staring at the council, looking like he hadn't slept for a few days.

 _'He probably hasn't. God.'_

"Now that everyone is present," Hestia said, shooting him a look. "Let us please continue."

"We can't leave," his alternate said, a begging tone in his voice, "not without her. We just can't."

"Believe me, Mr. Potter, we understand your plight. But you have to face reality. At this point, there is nothing more we can do."

"Your spy-"

Luna leaned forward, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"I got another communication from him. He says he has a plan, but it will take another few days at the very least."

"He has a plan?" Harry asked.

"That's what he said. Of course, he didn't tell me the details, but-"

"Why not?" His alternate called, "you communicate over Patronus, those can't simply be waylaid!"

"In the past, we made use of methods we thought foolproof," Hestia said gently, "only to discover that they weren't. No more information than necessary is given, even over a Patronus."

"But-if we-if we leave, they won't-won't be able to find us!"

"Harry," Luna said, "He knows we're going. He'll be able to make his way to us in Canada far easier than here, with the enemy all around."

His alternate sat stiffly, fingers flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing.

"We-we have enough people to attack-" he started.

Tarquin cut him off quickly.

"The majority of our people are not really combat trained. They can hold their own better than the average witch or wizard, but would not last against a Death Eater or soldier. More than that, most of them have not been involved in our acts of terrorism. We have primarily waged guerrilla warfare, not pitched battles. Our fighters would not hold their own against those with better experience."

Relentless, his alternate tried again.

"But we-"

"We know where they are," Tarquin continued, still speaking in the same calm tone, "and it's in one of, if not the most secure buildings in the entire Empire. The Death Eater's London headquarters. No magical travel in or out, except for a fireplace in the Director's office, which is only connected to five or six other fireplaces. His home, the Assistant Director's home, and a few barracks'. The only people allowed in at all are Marked Death Eaters, prisoners, or their muggle slaves. Even when we felt capable of taking on Azkaban, we never had a thought of trying our luck with their headquarters."

His alternate opened his mouth again, but Tarquin didn't give him a chance to talk.

"Within London and the surroundings alone, they have over three hundred battle trained witches and wizards. Not including their Dementors, Vampires, and Inferi. Every one of their men is better trained than our best and have more experience. They are better equipped. They have multiple flying squads, while we have a mere fifteen brooms and twenty-one Thestrals. Attacking there is nothing less than suicide."

For a moment, the other Harry looked like he was going to argue.

Then he slumped back into his chair, misery written all across his face.

"We are leaving here today. Our plan is to go to our base in Canada and be there for at least a week before heading on to Peru and taking everyone from Canada with us. There, and only there, will we decide what to do about the possibility of this world." Hestia paused, turning to Luna.

"Any updates from Peru?"

"They're out in force, but haven't found anything. They don't know anything about our group there, they still believe we're based somewhere in Africa. But they are searching for Lorcan and Lysander."

Luna paused, a grim smile crossing her face. "They're safe. They got the warning in time to go underground, so they're safe."

"Thank god," Ginny murmured, next to him.

"We're planning on leaving in approximately three hours," Hestia continued, "which means we'll be lucky if we're out of here in five. But the quicker we go, the better."

"It'll probably still take the Death Eaters a day or two to get to the borders of the Fidelius," Murdoc said thoughtfully, "they still won't be able to get in, of course, but they'll be able to pick up the Portkey trace,"

"But by then it'll be far more difficult to track," Tarquin said, "plus the Fidelius and other enchantments will muddle our tracks even more. Still, the colder our trail is, the better. We really need to push everyone to be ready."

Hestia looked at Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Severus, and Harry's alternate.

"I'm sorry for what you've been through here, I truly am. But we need to keep on going. We need to keep moving. And if the Demiguise truly is able to help, he'll have to bring your friends to Canada."

 _'Oh god, please let him be able to.'_

* * *

 _Bellona Potter_

Bellona had always known that there was something different about her.

Of course, that was a given, what with her family and the way she'd been raised. She'd known her upbringing was different from other people's since that interesting conversation with one of her roommates at the beginning of her second year.

Still, she was different even from her siblings.

She was special.

It had taken quite a bit of time to put her finger on what exactly it was.

Until a conversation with Hector had led her right to it.

They were all shackled. She was too, but her bonds were far looser. Her brothers and sister, her parents. They were shackled, tied in invisible chains of emotions.

She, however, was special.

She was freer than they could ever imagine.

She did wonder though, what it was like to feel all the time. To be able to actually care.

She imagined that it must be like having something to fill the gaping void within her.

Well, there were other ways to do that.

She walked into the White Wyvern, smiling brightly at the current bouncer. He nodded at her, touching his forelock in deference.

She walked into the room, ignoring the drunken singing, barely giving the ring a glance. They hadn't had anything really interesting going on in there for a while, ever since Reggie had gotten into his bare-knuckle boxing craze. It seemed to excite the patrons though. She could hear them arguing loudly, cheering their chosen champion on, calling out bets.

She glanced around, finding a suitable looking partner sitting at the bar with some friends.

He was a big fellow, covered in thick muscle. If she wasn't seeing wrong, he had a military emblem tattooed on his bare shoulder, the crossed sword and wand.

 _'Wouldn't be surprised if he's got troll or ogre blood. Nice.'_

She sidled into the chair next to him, seeming to pay him no mind as she drew the bartender's eye.

"Miss Potter, been a while since you've been in. Was beginning to wonder if I did something wrong."

She flashed him a grin, watching as his worries vanished.

"Come on, Reggie. It's barely been a week. Besides, if you had done something wrong, you'd know."

"That, I'm sure of," he said with a laugh.

She could feel the stares aimed at her, from her target and his friends, no doubt brought on by the mention of her name.

Of course, she was rather famous.

She could only hope that he hadn't heard too much about her.

"Give me something strong," she ordered, "you know the type of things that I like."

Reggie nodded, turning to the rows of bottles behind him.

He was a useful man, Reggie.

She stared straight ahead, not glancing toward her target. After a few moments, he and his friends began talking again.

"Here you go, Miss."

She took the proffered glass, examining it with a critical eye.

It was almost perfectly clear, with just the hint of a creamy colour.

She tossed it back.

It warmed her up as it filled her, going instantly to her head, making her veins thrum with life, making colours go brighter and sounds sharpen.

"Excellent. Let's have another."

Reggie smiled, refilling the glass.

She picked it up, swirling the ambrosia around as she turned to her target.

"Don't think I've seen you around before. I'm sure I'd have noticed, a big boy like you."

He smiled at her, biceps rippling.

"We've been stationed in Africa. You know, making sure none of them get any bright ideas."

"I know all about that."

He nodded, eyes darting from her face to the tattoos on her forearm and wrist before returning.

She pushed her chest forward, happy to see that his eyes were dragged in that direction.

 _'Men.'_

"I'm glad you're here now," she said, pitching her voice lower, making it as husky as she could, "since I find myself rather lonely at the moment. Tell me, are you that big all over?"

One of his friends snorted into his drink, turning aside hurriedly with liquid spraying from his nostrils.

Another started laughing, elbowing a third in the ribs.

Her target just smiled at her.

"Bigger."

 _'Ah. A macho man. Nothing quite like it.'_

She let her hand drop, trailed it along his thigh, dancing her fingers on him.

"Maybe you'll have to show me," she whispered.

She turned her head.

"Reggie, any rooms available upstairs?"

Reggie nodded slowly, reaching under the bar and pulling out a key.

"Third floor. Second on the left."

"Good. Give me a bottle of that stuff."

She waited till the bottle was ready before snagging it between two fingers and standing.

"Well? Let's go."

Her target smiled, standing up to a chorus of his friends' good-natured jeering.

He was easily two heads taller than her, and probably half again her width.

 _'This should definitely be fun,'_ she thought, pulse quickening.

They left the room, ignoring the wolf-whistles behind him.

He began to talk, spewing bravado about how good he was, the incredible things he was going to do to her.

She tuned him out, focusing on her memories of the latest prisoner's screams.

It was only when they were standing outside the room that she realized.

"You know, I didn't actually catch your name."

"Maximus," he said, "But you can just call me Max."

"Well, Max. You should know that I have very high standards for what I expect to get out of sex."

He leered at her, running his tongue over his lips. "I'm sure I'll meet them."

"See that you do. Because if you don't, I'll have to strangle you with your intestines."

His leer faltered, confusion flickering across his face as he tried to parse what he obviously thought was a joke.

She felt a genuine smile splitting her lips, true joy filling her.

"Or maybe I'll have to do that either way," she whispered, "won't that be fun?"

He went for his wand.

He may have been a soldier, but she'd been trained from the day she was born.

By the time his hand was halfway there she'd already drawn her own and disarmed him.

She poked him in the chest with his own wand, seeing the fear begin to dawn in his eyes.

God, but it was better than alcohol. And almost as good as sex.

"Let's see what you're made of," she said with a giggle, "lead the way."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

"Where's Bella?" He asked, leaning back in his chair.

Daphne shrugged. "She said something about wanting to celebrate. Said Weasley's ready to go to Rookwood, so she wanted to take a few hours off."

"Celebrate, hey?"

Daphne nodded. "You haven't had a chance to talk to her, have you?"

"No. Been far too busy. Maybe once we've given Rookwood the prisoners if we don't have more by then."

"You want to wait until Granger's ready before giving him Weasley? How long will that take?"

"Probably another few days," he said, considering the question, "I mean, I went very hard on her today. And yes. I think we should keep them both for now. It's not just about making sure they're too broken to try anything, it's about making sure we've wrung them dry."

"Makes sense. I checked on Weasley, by the way. She didn't go too far."

"Good. What did Hector have to say? I was busy with Granger when he tried me, and he said he was going to sleep after the report."

She shook her head. "Nothing too major, just a few skirmishes in the Midwest. He just wanted to keep us in the loop, in case it's connected."

He stroked his stubble-lined chin, staring off into the distance.

"Definitely could be. I wouldn't be surprised if they're doing whatever they can to distract us."

"They must know we won't leave that area though. In Scotland, I mean."

"I'm sure that they do. Maybe they're just taking the opening. He doesn't have any leads, does he? On where in America they're based?"

"No. And no prisoners either."

"Of course not. I'll admit, I'm a bit surprised that Granger's husband hasn't tried to come."

She reached over, gripping his hand.

"You said it yourself, love. He's a weak version of you."

"Even so, from what we saw in their memories, he doesn't seem the type to just take it easy while his wife's in custody."

"No," Daphne said, "but their Snape does seem more in control of himself. Maybe enough to convince him that it'd be suicide to even try."

"Maybe. But I guarantee you, he's furious and frustrated. I'm sure we'll see something from him. Something."

There was a knock on the door.

"Blaise?" Daphne asked quietly.

He nodded, calling out as he did. "Come in."

Blaise walked in, still limping slightly. On a whole though, he looked fine. The scratches and cuts on his face were totally gone, and he seemed to be moving his arms all right.

"Hey, Blaise. What've the Healers said?"

He struggled into a chair, holding his leg out stiffly.

"You know what they're like. Drink this foul potion, it'll make everything better. But they're saying the leg should be better next week, and they'll clear me for active duty a few days later."

"Good, Good. What've you got for us?"

"Rookwood's coming over to give his own report. Should be here relatively soon. So, Peru. Nothing on the Scamander kids. It seems like there might have been a sighting in Bolivia, but you know what people are like once a reward's been announced."

"Calling us in for oddly shaped clouds," Daphne said with a sneer.

"Exactly. Wherever they are, they're hiding. So, we've got that going on. You heard about the stuff in America?"

Harry just tapped his wrist.

"Of course you did. Well, it might not be connected, but it also might. You'll probably hear about anything there before I do, but we're watching it. And we've got all the offices in Africa on alert and searching for their hideout there. Would help if we could narrow it down to less than an entire fucking continent, but that's what we have."

"Anything on the spy?"

Blaise rubbed his forehead. "Honestly, I don't know what to tell you. I mean, there's been nothing in the last few days, no hints that they've been getting information. But we didn't know they had a spy till now. And like five of our suspects were killed at the Lovegood house. Does that mean we stop suspecting them? I don't fucking know."

"The Secret Keeper, that was Luna," Harry said, "maybe with her in hiding, he can't contact her anymore?"

"Maybe," Blaise admitted, "But is that enough to go on?"

"No. And we're not in the type of situation where we can start giving people false info to test them either. Let me think about it. Haven't had a chance to do that over the past few days."

"No," Blaise muttered, "I don't think any of have. Madder things going on."

Someone else knocked at the door.

"Probably Rookwood," Blaise said, "if you want, I'll-"

"Stay. Come in."

Rookwood walked in, looking happier than he had since the intruders had arrived.

"Well, Rookwood? What've you got for us?"

"We have a far better understanding of the artefact than we did a few days ago," Rookwood said, taking the chair next to Blaise. "I'm reasonably certain that we can actually control it now. That we could command it to say, send some of us to another world, or bring other people in from one."

"You haven't tried, right?"

"No. You were quite explicit, if you recall."

Harry permitted himself a small smile.

"Yes. I was. It seems we'll be able to give you the two prisoners in another few days. What do you think you'll get from them?"

"Based on what we currently know, I think we'll be able to make it open to one of their worlds. At will, I mean. But we'll need them to test that, and-"

Harry shook his head forcefully.

"Not a chance. You're not bringing in more of them or sending any of our people there. Not until we've got this situation under control, and have approval from the Emperor."

"I meant," Rookwood hurriedly said, "that we'll be able to confirm our theories. Of course, I'm not going to exacerbate anything, not at this point."

 _'Fucking liar. If I hadn't said anything, ten to one he'd already have brought in more of them.'_

"But," Rookwood continued, "Whenever the time comes for us to move into their world, the rest of my Department and I will be ready. Merlin only knows the progress we've made, the Runes alone-"

"I'll have to hear more about that another time. Right now, I want to hear about your progress with the Fidelius."

Rookwood tensed up at that.

 _'Oh joy. Let's hear the excuses this time.'_

"We think that we might, might have the beginnings of a way to detect where a Fidelius has been cast. Of course, it'll take more time to-"

"That's all?"

"Th-that's all?" Rookwood spluttered, "All? We've been working on the Fidelius for almost ten years! This is the first real breakthrough we've had, and the only thing you have to say is that's all?"

"We've been able to figure out the rough area of where a Fidelius was cast before. What's so special about this?"

"Because-because if this goes the way we're hoping it will, we'll be able to measure the dimensions of a place under the Fidelius precisely! And the further we get in cracking the spell at all, the closer we come to actually being able to break it!"

"I see. Well, it's better than nothing. What's the latest on Damien and Cyrus?"

Rookwood subsided, settling back into his chair.

"Cyrus has adjusted to the brooms far better than Damien has. They still have another two days of the preparatory potions and rituals, but I believe Cyrus will be ready to leave at most three or four days after that."

"Continue with the both of them," he ordered, "even if Cyrus will be ready first, I still want Damien as a back-up. And you'll keep me updated with the Fidelius and the artefact."

"Of course."

 _'Unless you fuck up again. Then you'll just try to avoid me. Fucking Unspeakables.'_

* * *

 _Severus._

"How am I meant to do it, Severus?" Harry asked, "To just leave?"

Severus sighed.

"You know-"

"I fucking know, all right! I know that there's nothing I can do, I know what she'd tell me, I know! But I-I also know what they're doing to her!"

 _'No you don't,_ ' Severus thought with a shudder, _'you really, really don't.'_

He'd seen plenty of torture in his life. He'd joyfully taken part in it, back when he was a Death Eater.

There was something about it; something about that feeling you got when you were surrounded by your companions with Dark Magic thrumming in your blood. A feeling of total power, a complete lack of empathy.

You'd happily do horrific things. Do them and enjoy them. It was like a spell had been cast over you, to block out any morals or ethics or any feeling of humanity. Like a fever dream, where you never stopped for a second to think about what you were doing.

It wasn't something that could simply be blamed on Dark Magic. Oh, it aggravated things, but it wasn't entirely to blame.

After all, muggles experienced it as well. They'd shown it in Germany, in Rwanda and Nanking, in Burundi, Cambodia, and the Middle East.

When you were facing someone you'd been taught not to view as human, you lost all capacity for mercy.

He knew it to be true.

He'd been in that position many, many times. With all of his Death Eater friends by his side, he'd done terrible things and seen things done that were even worse.

But nothing even came close to the horrors he'd witnessed in Crabbe's memories. In the memories of all the Death Eaters they'd captured, in fact, but Crabbe was the worst of those three.

The worst things he'd ever seen in his world were but a pale imitation of a regular interrogation in this world.

"And it's just-I know that we have to go, and I know I can't attack, can't do anything. I know that staying here won't help her at all. But leaving still makes me feels like I'm abandoning her."

He cast his thoughts back to the situation at hand. Harry lay face down on the bed, almost entirely still.

"Harry. I don't think there's anything you can do to change how you feel in this situation. You just have to accept your feelings and move on. Keep moving."

"I-"

"You haven't been sleeping. Not properly. Luna said they have better potions ingredients in Canada. I'll be able to make you some Dreamless Sleep."

"I don't fucking want Dreamless Sleep," Harry growled, "I want her to be here."

He suppressed a sigh, rubbing his forehead. It seemed that no matter what, he was doomed to be the voice of reason.

Even at a time when he wanted nothing more than to fall to pieces himself.

A part of him was still wondering whether this all was some absurd dream. Whether he'd been poisoned or cursed, forced to live through this entire ridiculous situation. To be in a world where he wasn't looked at as a war-hero, a man who'd risked his life as a spy for years. To be in a world where he was looked at with suspicion, where his newfound allies clutched their wands at the sight of him.

It still didn't make sense. That Lily has been killed, and yet his alternate still served the Dark Lord.

It didn't make any sense.

"Harry. Stop wallowing in your misery. You could be incredibly useful. You're the only one preventing that."

"I need-"

"You need to get the hell out of your bed. You need to shower. You need to shave. You need to be ready to leave, because we are taking the Portkey out of here in approximately an hour. And you need to get a hold of yourself."

Harry turned his head to face him.

"It's just-throughout everything, always. She's been there for me. I fucking chose to live for her. What the hell else do I have?"

Severus leaned forward, putting as much venomous malice into his voice as he could manage.

"Your children."

Harry jerked back as if slapped. Severus stood up, looming over him.

"We will get her back, Harry. And your moaning and weeping is helping nobody. Not her, not yourself, and certainly not these rebels. You want them to listen to you, you want them to go to the wall for her? Show them that you deserve it!"

"I-"

"And even if, which I don't believe will happen, we don't end up getting her back. You still have your children to return to."

Harry just gaped at him, mouth moving like a fish.

"Now get up, and at least pretend to be a functional human being."

He turned, leaving the room, wishing he could have the luxury to fall apart at the seams.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32_

He threw up after the fourth Portkey.

Granted, International Portkeys always had made him feel more nauseous than any other form of magical travel, and he'd barely slept the last few days.

Still, Severus had been right. If he wanted them to take him seriously, if he wanted them to take his capabilities as seriously as he deserved, then he needed to show them why they should do so.

Luckily, he was in the second group of people to travel, so only a few had seen his reaction.

He straightened up hurriedly, vanishing his vomit and glancing around.

No one was paying him any attention. They were all too busy looking around.

At the desert.

Wherever they were, it was clearly one of the major deserts. They were surrounded by endless sand, the scorching sun beating down on them.

"Come on. I've got the next ones."

He walked over to where Luna stood, holding a few empty and broken canteens out.

"Why the hell did we come here?"

She shrugged. "Need to backtrack, lead them off of the trail. It takes them time to track each jump, and the more people the more complicated it gets. The other groups aren't coming out in the exact same place, not until the end, so that'll throw them off even more."

"But we left from a place under the Fidelius," he said, aware of and hating the whine in his voice, "it'll take them forever to get through that."

Luna nodded. "Still, we have our standard practices. There's a reason they've barely ever caught any of us."

She turned to the rest of the people milling around.

"Come on! No more than seven to a Portkey, let's go!"

Slowly, they all shuffled forward.

He ended up touching the canteen along with his alternate and Ginny, Severus, the other Hermione, and two centaurs.

"Ok. Again, one person from each group needs to say it. And again, we won't all come out in the exact same place. On three, two, one. Phoenix, Freedom, Safety."

With a pop, Luna and the rest of her group vanished.

One of the centaurs snorted nervously before speaking.

"Phoenix, Freedom, Safety."

He felt the tell-tale tug at his navel, like a hook had been inserted into his waist.

Then he was pulled away into nothingness, spinning through empty space in a dizzying rush.

For a good two or three minutes, he was clobbered, his body twisting through the space between _here_ and _there_.

Then it came to an abrupt end, the Portkey dropping him onto his knees.

His first thought, before he even opened his eyes, was: _'bloody hell its cold!'_

Then he heard a loud voice, echoing as it boomed over them.

"Welcome, all of yeh. This' Mount Robson. Least, that's wha' the muggles used to call it. Come on, make yeselves a' home, we go'-"

His eyes shot open, familiar comfort washing over him at the sound of Hagrid's voice.

They were on a beautiful plateau, ice and fresh snow covering the cliffs all around them.

Hagrid stood about ten meters away.

Hagrid, looking almost exactly the same as in Harry's world.

Relief warmed him. Here at least, was something not too different from his world.

Hagrid's beard was wilder, and he seemed to be wearing a dragonhide jacket instead of his usual overcoat, but still, it was Hagrid.

The two women standing by him were clearly Veela, and there were a few shapes behind them that were even larger than Hagrid.

They were man-like, covered in thick fur, and each of them was armed with an enormous club or axe.

But Hagrid had gone deathly pale.

With a snarl, he raised his crossbow, aiming right at Severus.

"Yeh dirty traitor bastard!" he growled, "Yeh think yeh can jus' come over here?"

He didn't even think. He just shouted.

"HAGRID, NO!"

Hagrid's crossbow effortlessly swung to face him.

"Potter!"

The Veela howled, their features shimmering, their hands turning to claws.

One of the furry man-like creatures jumped forward, easily clearing the distance and landing with its axe right at Severus' neck.

"I'm not-I'm not the Harry Potter you know! I'm-"

There was a loud popping sound from his right.

"Hagrid! Alaloke! Stop!"

Out the corner of his eye, Harry saw the creature slowly stepping away from Severus and lowering its axe.

But Hagrid kept his bow aimed.

Harry couldn't take his eyes off of that, off of the clear hatred on Hagrid's face. The hatred aimed at him.

"Hagrid!" Luna called sharply.

"No' till yeh explain."

"It's a long, long story," she said, "in short: they came from an alternate dimension. One where they aren't evil."

The creature, Alaloke apparently, turned to Luna.

"You really believe that?" He asked, his voice a deep, rumbling sound with an untraceable accent.

"I do. We checked them in Scotland and we believe them. Please, Hagrid. Lower your bow. I swear, they're not lying. We'll explain everything when we're inside."

Hagrid scowled, finally lowering his bow.

"Fine. But I'm keepin' 'em where I can see 'em."

He shot Harry a glare full of malice and loathing.

And Harry felt a last, tiny bit of his heart that was still whole shatter into a thousand pieces.

* * *

 _Bellona Potter_

She sighed, gathering her scattered clothes to her.

It was always like this. Always.

An hour or so of life, an hour of _feeling_ , and then the emptiness returned.

She eyed the bottle critically.

She'd been careful not to drain it completely, and not to let it break.

Yes. There was still enough left in there to refill it. Enough of a base to be able to multiply the drink.

She must have done that five or six times already, and she was barely even tipsy.

That was a regrettable side effect of the rituals she'd been through, back when she was preparing herself for the creation of her Horcruxes.

She wasn't even completely sure which ritual had caused it, but she could barely get drunk.

The bottle flashed bright gold as it finished refilling.

Downstairs, another bottle would be added to her tab. As if she had to worry about paying.

An hour or so of life. That's what she got before it started draining away, letting the void claim her once again.

Barely an hour.

She stroked Max's hair.

"You were actually good. Really, you were. Just not good enough. Close, but not quite there."

With a sigh, she stood up, idly throwing his scalp onto the rest of his corpse.

She made her way down the stairs, swigging from the bottle as she went.

The bleak numbness was settling in on her again, smothering her with its emptiness.

It really was a shame, how short it all had to last. All because she was special.

Sometimes, she wondered if she would ever truly feel something that wasn't simply a physical sensation. If she would actually feel emotions, swirling up in her and driving her actions.

At least, she wondered if she would feel them for longer than an hour or so.

The bar fell silent as she walked back in.

Only two of Max's friends were still present. A third was unconscious, slumped over the bar in a drunken stupor.

The two remaining looked to be well on their way to joining him.

Reggie stared at her as she drew near, eyeing the gore dotting her clothes.

She tossed him the bottle.

"The room needs cleaning. Take the body to one of the apothecaries, use it against my tab."

Reggie nodded.

"You-where'sh Max?"

She turned to the man, sneering at his stupidity.

"He's upstairs. What's left of him, at least."

The idiot tried to focus, his eyes running over her clothes.

"You? You did-what did you do?"

"What I always do. Whatever I want."

She pulled out Max's wand, waving it carelessly in front of the idiot's face.

"You-you bitch!"

He went for his wand.

She was quicker, of course. She'd have been quicker and better if he was stone cold sober.

Before he knew what had happened, she was holding his wand.

"There are so many things I could do," she whispered, "I could turn you into a bug and tear your arms and legs off. I could make you explode like an overripe watermelon. I could keep you alive until I've removed too many of your veins for that to go on. So very many things that I could do."

She sighed and snapped his wand, throwing the pieces back at him.

"But what's the point? What's the fucking point anyway?"

She walked out, ignoring his spluttering.

God, she wished that she wasn't special.

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	8. Chapter 7–Horror the Soul of Plot

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/ P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Chapter 7– Horror the soul of plot

"Sometimes we can choose the paths we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all."-Neil Gaiman—Seasons of Mist

* * *

 _11 May 2028_

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror_

Harry had thought that the rebellion's underground Scottish hideout was incredible, that it was the best of its kind.

He'd been wrong.

This, their safe-house in the Canadian Rockies, this was incredible.

An enormous portion of the mountain itself had been hollowed out, making space for easily thousands to live. Of course, even with everyone from Scotland, there were still only about five to six hundred people there.

He would have expected it to be spartan, built with nothing other than bare practicalities in mind.

He would have been wrong.

It was beautiful, with enormous hewn staircases carved out of the rock, leading from the entrance at the top of the mountain all the way to the bottom. Minor walkways spiraled away from the main routes, leading to caverns and caves in the walls.

The entire place was lit up with thousands of those floating balls of light, casting reflections onto the streams and rivulets on the ground.

He could hear water dripping as he walked, stalactites and stalagmites slowly forming in the bowels of the earth.

It really was incredible what they'd done here. It was mostly non-humans, with about fifty or so goblins, a similar number of Veela, and close to a hundred of the hairy creatures that he'd learned were Sasquatches.

They'd done the place up incredibly, with different caverns made to seem exactly like the natural habitats of the inhabitants.

But, beautiful as the place was, the people there were an entirely different story.

They were all just so...depressed. Beaten down.

They still fought, but the feeling Harry got from them was that they weren't fighting to win. No, they were fighting to do as much damage as they could before they inevitably lost.

Over the previous few days there, he'd spoken with many of them, and had begun to get a feel for the rebellion as a whole.

He'd gotten the same sense from each of them. A type of hopeless desperation, a need to avenge themselves as much as they could before they too were killed.

The goblins, for example, were all resigned to the total extinction of their race.

It made sense, in a terrible way. The vast majority of the world's living goblins were there, clustered together in caves. Out of the nearly sixty of them, half were too old to have any more children.

There simply wasn't a big enough population for them to try and restart their race, not when they were in hiding with a death penalty hanging over their heads.

It made sense, but it didn't stop their grim despondency from permeating everyone in their presence, infecting them with a lacklustre sense of despair.

The Veela also carried it. They weren't in the same situation as the goblins, but the Veela hiding out with the rebels were outcasts.

Apparently, Veela as a whole, while not aligned with Voldemort and his ideologies, were not willing to fight against him.

Those who felt that they should fight were banished, sent away from their families and loved ones, branded as traitors who would bring nothing but pain upon their people.

Voldemort, it seemed, had established a powerful precedent with his treatment of the goblins. He'd shown all the magical races that if they fought they'd be hunted down until they were nothing more than a memory.

Honestly, he couldn't even blame the Veela and the centaurs. They didn't exactly have a choice. But it didn't change the fact that it made those Veela and centaurs who had chosen to fight much more demoralized.

' _Which was exactly Voldemort's plan.'_

Even with the threat of extinction, the Sasquatches had all chosen to fight. Harry hadn't yet seen them actually fight, but from what he'd heard, and from what he'd seen when they'd arrived, the Sasquatches were dangerous.

They'd need them. The rebels weren't nearly as battle-capable as they should be. Not nearly enough to face people who really were, people who had no morals, no rules about how they'd fight, the types of magic they'd use.

He paused on the stairwell for a moment and looked out the window. Well, they weren't exactly windows, more like patches of rock that had been enchanted to show the outside.

It was dark, the edge of the horizon just beginning to light up with the faint signs of pre-dawn.

' _Not long, now. Not much longer.'_

Today, he'd have the chance to actually do something. The last week or so he'd been getting more and antsier, slowly being driven mad by monotony, boredom, and an urgent need to do something.

Since Ron and the other Hermione had been captured, it'd only gotten worse. He hadn't really been doing anything other than talking, debating, and occasionally having practice duels.

It hadn't been enough to keep him distracted, to keep his mind from hovering and wondering what was happening to Ron.

It hadn't been enough, but hopefully today he'd have the chance to actually do something.

The rebels (who he'd started referring to as the Order, at least in the privacy of his own head,) had a plan. A plan to at least cause some damage to the Empire's forces, and at the same times to lead the Death Eaters after a false trail.

Apparently, the Death Eaters believed the Order to have a base in Africa. The Order knew about this, and were all too happy to reinforce the false information.

So in a few hours, he, his alternate, and a few of the Order's best fighters would be taking a series of long-distance Portkeys, and would hopefully be attacking one of the military's barracks in Swaziland.

As much as he didn't want to take part, as much as he had no desire to put himself in a kill or be killed position, he needed to do it.

He couldn't sit back while other people went out to fight, couldn't rest easy while people were dying in a battle against Voldemort's troops.

He just couldn't do it.

And if he wanted the Order to stop looking at him like he was a monster, he needed to prove that he was on their side.

They were worse here, the glares and mutters. In Scotland, people had just started accepting him, had just begun to realize that he might not be a monster, that he might not actually be anything like his Death Eater counterpart.

Here, people reluctantly accepted the truth, that he'd been brought into this world against his will. But they still seemed to hold his alternate's actions against him. Here, with their goblins and Veela and Sasquatches, with their totally different views on honour, they looked at him like he was barely acceptable, like he was scum they'd been forced to work with.

And here there was Hagrid.

Seeing Hagrid's reaction to him had, more than anything else, truly drummed in the horrible truth of this world's version of him. If even Hagrid detested him, there could be nothing salvageable there.

He turned aside from the window and began walking again, heading back to his room to get dressed before seeing the goblin smiths.

He was in the large cavern full of human-style rooms when he heard it.

"Why won't yeh jus' work? Ruddy thing!"

Acting entirely on instinct, he knocked on Hagrid's door.

He only had time to think: ' _what the hell am I doing?'_ before Hagrid opened the door.

"Wha' do yeh want?" He asked with a scowl.

"I just-I heard you complaining, thought maybe I could help."

"No thanks."

He couldn't help himself. As Hagrid went back into his room, he called out: "we're friends!"

Hagrid halted, not turning around.

"In my world, we're friends. Hell, you were one of my sons' godfather!"

"Fine," Hagrid said, his voice sounding slightly less rough than it had a moment before, "come on in then, make yerself a' home, why don' yeh?"

Harry walked into Hagrid's room, looking around apprehensively.

It was nothing like his hut at Hogwarts had been. There, bunches of herbs and things like unicorn hair could be found hanging from the walls. His hut had been cosy, with a lived-in feel to it.

This room, though, felt more like a workshop.

There were random tools scattered around the place, from monkey-wrenches and screwdrivers to a strange blowtorch looking thing.

It didn't feel like someone's home. Even the enormous bed in the corner didn't give it that feel. In fact, the only personal effects that Harry could see were a few photographs, one of which seemed to be that one of the original Order Moody had once shown him.

But in the centre of the room, and apparently what Hagrid had been working on, was a motorcycle.

"Is that," he asked, mouth suddenly dry, "is that Sirius' old bike?"

Hagrid nodded.

"Hate havin' to fix it. Much better with things tha' can think for 'emselves."

Harry just stared at it.

"Yeh say I'm yer friend. How'd tha' happen?"

That was an easier subject.

"The Dursleys never told me I was a wizard, they wanted to keep me from finding out. So when the Hogwarts letters started coming, they ran. We ended up in this little shack on some island. Then you arrived, kicked in the door, and told me the truth."

Hagrid grunted.

"You-you took me to Diagon Alley. Told me all about the wizarding world. And when I got to Hogwarts I'd come over to you for tea quite often."

"Dursleys. Yer aunt and uncle?"

"Yeah. I'll never forget the looks on their faces-"

"So they dint send yeh away. No' in yer world."

"No. They-they didn't like it, but they took me in."

Hagrid sighed deeply, his breath all but blowing Harry's hair back.

"Pull up a seat, if yeh wan'."

Harry did, spotting a regular sized chair after a few seconds.

"Did you get to know me? The-the version of me from this world, I mean?"

Hagrid sighed again, his beard waving as he shook his head.

"I tried. Merlin's beard, but I tried. Professor Dumbledore, he dint wan' me to go and fetch yeh, him, from tha' place. He said there was too many muggles there. So I figured I'd wait till he go' settled in. But then he wen' to Slytherin."

Harry nodded, a lump building up in his throat.

"Well, it was mighty uncomfortable, seein' him chummin' around with tha' Malfoy kid and his ilk. Bu' after a bit, I figured I'd cha' with him. And he didn't like it. Seemed to think it was my fault he ended up in tha' place."

"Why would he think that? That's ridiculous!"

Hagrid scratched at his beard, tears welling up in his eyes.

"He thought tha' we shouldn't've left 'im with the Dursleys. Tha' we should've made sure they'd've taken him in."

"Nonsense," Harry said forcefully, "in my world, in the world of the other one who's with me, they did take us in! You can't be blamed for what someone else did wrong!"

Hagrid shook his head sadly.

"Dunno. Maybe I should've said summat. Anyway, he dint wan' nothin' to do with me after tha'. Wouldn't read my letters. Ignored me when he saw me. I tried a few more times in his second year, then I jus' gave up. Still dint see it comin'. Don't rightly think anyone did, to be honest."

"No-one thought he was on You-Know-Who's side?"

"None o' us. No' till he-till he killed Professor Dumbledore. Then everyone knew."

"I heard," Harry said, swallowing thickly, "that he-that he killed Sirius?"

Hagrid closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, pulling his pipe from his pocket.

"He said tha' he did. We all thought it was Bellatrix. But when he killed Dumbledore, he said it was him. Couldn't believe it, at firs'. I just couldn't."

"Sirius-in my world, Bellatrix did kill him. He was fighting her, fighting to protect me, and she killed him."

His voice broke at the end of the sentence. Even now, after all the years, it was still difficult to talk about that terrible night.

"But we won, in our world. We managed to defeat You-Know-Who. And our world, it's a better place than it ever was beforehand."

Hagrid just looked at him.

"I mean, we're working toward taking down the Statute of Secrecy, so we've been getting all the different nations on board. And we've been getting all the-the sentient magical creatures on board too. Centaurs have a seat on the Wizengamot, and so do Goblins and Merpeople."

Thick smoke began to fill the room with Hagrid's exhale, its pungent fragrance settling in over Harry.

They sat there for a bit, perfectly silent.

"Could yeh tell me a mite more 'bout yer world?"

Harry smiled and started to talk.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32_

The goblin scowled at him before roughly thrusting a breastplate in his general direction.

"Try this one."

He shrugged it on over his shoulders, tying the straps as best he could.

"Yeah, this one's not too tight."

The goblin nodded, turning back to the rows of armour behind him.

"You said that it could protect me from a Killing Curse?"

"Should, wizard. It's thick enough to take one. It will fall to pieces, but you'll live. For whatever that's worth."

Harry bit back a comment, acidic bile rising in his chest.

God, but there were few things he hated more than being hated for no reason.

Well, it wasn't exactly no reason. They knew enough about this world's version of him to hate any Harry Potter, and he couldn't really blame them for that.

It still was annoying.

"What about the helmet?"

"Not thick enough. Perhaps your skull will be? You could always try and see."

"I'm not the Harry Potter that you know," he snarled, "there's no need for you to treat me like I am."

The goblin bent over, a strange rattling noise erupting from his mouth.

' _Is that laughter?'_

"If I were to treat you like you were him, wizard," he said after recovering his composure, "you'd be begging me to kill you. You aren't him. Don't expect me to applaud you for that. I've seen what you could have been. As far as I am concerned, there's a part of him in you."

"So why are you even helping me?"

The goblin smiled, baring his long fangs.

"I'll gladly help wizards kill each other. And I will help anyone who wants to fight those who destroyed my people."

"Well-"

"And with this armour you'll go into battle quicker, and I can always hope that you'll die."

Harry glared daggers at the goblin, about to say something harsh, when the armoury door opened.

Hagrid walked in, making Harry's words die in his throat.

He wasn't wearing his usual overcoat, nor the dragonhide jacket he'd worn when he'd met Harry and the rest of them.

Instead, he was wearing armour.

It covered his whole body, a thick suit of gleaming metal, made in a similar style to the breastplate Harry had been given. There was an enormous axe strapped on his left side, and a knife just too short to be called a sword on his right. He held a large horned helmet with one gauntleted fist.

Hell, but it was an intimidating sight. Harry just goggled, while Hagrid stood in the doorway, looked at the two of them and growled out a series of harsh guttural syllables.

The goblin did that laughing thing again and replied in the same language.

"Since when do you speak Gobbledegook?"

Hagrid looked at him, and for once there didn't seem to be as much loathing in his eyes.

"Oh, yeh pick it up. Yeh 'bout ready?"

"Almost, just waiting for-"

The goblin pushed a helmet into his hands.

"Thanks," he muttered, the helmet muffling his voice as he put it on.

"Yeah, it fits fine."

"If you kill enough of them I'll give you a knife for the next time. Now get out."

"Thanks, Agrod," Hagrid said, ushering Harry out of the door.

"Don' mind him. Agrod's had a worse time than most o' us. Makes him a tad grumpy."

"A tad? He seemed-"

"A' one point, they were tryin' to capture goblins alive. So they could try and find ou' how they did their metal magic. They almost caught Agrod. Lucky bugger barely managed to escape. The rest of his clan didn't."

Harry digested that, trying not to think about what that meant for Hermione. How she would be.

At least he was going to be doing something to help her. It wouldn't directly free her, but any distractions they offered the Empire would only help the spy do whatever he could.

And if he could bathe in the blood of those who took her, maybe it'd cool the burning fury within.

"Ah, Hagrid. And Potter. Are you two ready to go?"

Harry nodded.

"Excellent," Alaloke the Sasquatch said, "here, take this."

Harry took the proffered object. It was a small white strip of what felt like paper, no larger than a fingernail.

"What is this?"

"Stick it onto one of your teeth. If they catch you, say the password and have in mind that you want it to activate."

It suddenly felt heavier than a brick as he realized what it must be.

"Poison?"

Alaloke nodded gravely. "Better than them getting information from you. And better death than what they would do to you."

' _God, Hermione. God.'_

"What's the password?" He asked, his voice somehow coming outsteady, as if a part of his mind wasn't curled up into a ball and weeping.

"Freedom."

He stuck it on one of his canines, his tongue immediately starting to run over it.

"Come on."

He followed, trailing a little bit behind as Alaloke and Hagrid started talking to one another.

It didn't take them long to arrive at the main cavern, where all the others who'd be going to Africa were waiting.

There weren't that many of them. Just him, Hagrid, Alaloke and another Sasquatch, two Goblins, his alternate, Severus, and a witch and wizard that he only knew as Emmet and Frieda.

None of the Veela or centaurs would be joining in this fight.

As much as he could understand their position, as much as he knew that for every action they took they risked reprisals against the rest of their kind, he still couldn't help but think of them as cowardly.

"Everyone ready?"

Hagrid put his helmet on, and picked up a huge shield.

"Helmets on, then."

Alaloke picked up a big piece of rock, easily holding the heavy stone in the centre of the room.

Once they were all touching it the Sasquatch nodded.

"Let's go. Victory."

The first of their five Portkeys to Africa activated, pulling Harry through nothingness.

* * *

 _Hermione Weasley._

"I got another communication from the Demiguise," Luna said, taking her hand and squeezing it, "I don't want to get your hopes up for nothing, but it really seems possible that he can get them out. Maybe even tonight."

She squeezed back, closing her eyes tight enough to stop the tears from streaming out.

"H-how will he be? After so long in their custody, how will he be?"

"It's...hard to say. We haven't exactly been in this situation before, you know."

"But you have dealt with people who suffered at their hands. You know their modus operandi."

"I don't want to say. I don't want to get you thinking it'll be worse than it is, or even better than it actually is."

It made sense, what Luna was saying. It still didn't stop her from wanting to know though. Sense or not, it didn't stop her from needing to know.

She needed to know, even if the knowledge would hurt. She had to know, because that way she could at least pretend to prepare herself.

She had to know, because horrific as the knowledge might be, the blank space of uncertainty was so much worse.

Her thirst for knowledge had never simply been quenched by thinking she'd be better off not knowing. After all, it was her thirst for knowledge that had landed them all in this mess.

' _If I had just asked Flitwick and Babbling to come in to the department, if I'd just had pictures taken. Ron wouldn't be being tortured right now. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have taken it out.'_

She rubbed her forehead, trying to massage away the thoughts.

It didn't quite work.

"There's nothing that you could tell me that'd be worse than what I've been imagining," she said, opening her eyes and focusing on Luna's face. "Please, Luna. I need to know. What should I be expecting?"

Luna stared at her for a bit, looking deeply into her eyes.

Then she nodded.

"We've never dealt with people this fresh from Death Eater interrogations. But we've heard stories."

She tightened her grip on Luna's hand, her pulse starting to race.

"We'll have the medical team waiting. If your Snape-"

"He's not-he came with the others."

Luna just carried on.

"If he's as brilliant as the version of him here is, he'll be a big help. The Death Eaters, they use the Cruciatus a lot. But it's not their only tool. Burning, cutting, flaying, broken bones, amputations, waterboarding, and choking. They use all of those a lot. And they keep the prisoners sleep deprived and on the brink of starvation and dehydration."

She nodded, ignoring the screaming in her mind, ignoring the desire to simply shut down, ignoring the terrible thoughts of Ron in conjunction with those atrocities.

She couldn't stop the tears, though.

"But as much as they do that, they focus on mental abuse. You need to know that. The curses can be healed, mostly. The emotional damage doesn't go away quite as easily."

She needed to know. Always, she needed to know.

Her throat felt like it was blocked, but she managed to choke the words out.

"What do they do?"

Luna just looked at her.

"Please, Luna. It's always better to know. I need to know, please."

"You really are Hermione," Luna muttered, "not just in name and face. You're not that different."

She waited, the tension rising within her and writhing in her innards, the need to know filling her mind.

After a moment, Luna carried on.

"They-they play mental games with the prisoners. To break their will to fight. To demoralize and dehumanize them. They'll force feed them laxatives and punish them for ruining the clothes they were given. They'll ask questions that can't be answered and punish them when they fail. They'll treat them like-like a subhuman thing until they come to believe it. They'll make them answer to abusive names, carve degrading words into their skin. Force them to beg for punishment, to politely ask for a dose of the Cruciatus or the like."

' _God. Ron, please, no, please, Ron. No, this is all my fault, no.'_

"They don't have compunctions against using rape. They'll keep them in chains, feed them like animals, only clean them if they're behaving and answering the questions. And they'll convince them that it's their fault, that they deserve it."

"How have you managed?" She whispered, "In this world? In this nightmare? How didn't you go crazy?"

Luna smiled bitterly, the expression appearing and disappearing in the blink of an eye.

"Maybe I did go crazy. I sometimes think I have."

"You haven't. God, you should have. I would have."

"That's because you've always been much more..."

Luna waved a hand, searching for the words.

"Much more rational than me. You always were. For a rational person, going crazy would be the right response to a world like this. But I've always been halfway crazy. I've always known that nothing makes any sense, not really."

"You're not crazy," Hermione said, "you're not, and you never have been."

Luna smiled again, a much more honest one this time.

"Definitely Hermione. But if I'm not crazy, how come I've always had hope?"

Luna leaned forward, hugging her tight.

"He'll be back, you'll see. And it'll be hard, but we'll get through it. They've had people for far longer than this, people who managed to recover. He'll get through it."

Hermione started crying, heavy sobs ripped out of her by the earnest care in Luna's voice.

Luna didn't let go. If anything, she hugged her tighter, stroking her shoulder and murmuring comforting nonsense words.

Eventually, the moment passed. Slowly, Luna let her go.

She rubbed her face, still sniffling.

"I think I've always been expecting something like this," Luna said, "a part of me, at least. Expecting a miracle to swoop in, something to make me really feel hopeful again. You must know that, Hermione. You, you and the others, you're a miracle. And the best hope you can have is when everything seems darkest."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32_

"This one should take us out near the barracks. We might be spotted immediately, just depends on if any of them are out right now."

"Why not arrive somewhere a bit further away?" His alternate asked, "To at least minimize that risk?"

Alaloke snorted. "If anything, that would make things worse. More time for them to spot us. This way we'll definitely have the element of surprise."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. It wasn't so different from some of the missions he'd been on in the past.

Of course, in his world they'd never had to take so many Portkeys or spent so much time in the fucking desert.

Apparently, the deserts were still mostly uninhabited, so traveling through them was the best option to avoid being seen.

At least his breastplate and helmet protected him from the blazing sun, but there was definitely sand in places he'd prefer not to think about.

"Remember. We need to be out of there before they bring in reinforcements and get anti-Apparition and Portkey jinxes and Wards set up. We're just going in, taking out as many of them as we can, destroying the building if possible, and getting out of there."

"Prisoners?"

Alaloke shook his head.

"We're not trying for that. If the opportunity comes up, I wouldn't say to turn it down. But that's not our goal. Everyone has their Portkeys?"

Harry nodded, feeling the comforting weight of the coin in his pocket.

"Good. Those of you who are capable should Apparate a few times before taking them. The Portkey will bring you back here, and we'll meet up and return to headquarters."

"How long we waitin' this time?"

"Twenty minutes after we leave Swaziland. After that you're on your own."

' _Harsh. Necessary, but harsh.'_

"Good luck, everyone. Drinks are on me tonight. Make sure you're alive for that."

Nervous chuckles rose from the group as they approached the Portkey and touched it.

"Victory."

He managed to contain his dizziness and nausea, as he was unceremoniously pulled through space and hurled onto the ground, just barely landing on his feet.

There was a second when they all stood there, a frozen tableau of gleaming armour. They were barely a hundred meters away from the barracks, a squat brown building.

In between them and it there stood a group of ten or so men, all of whom looked on in startlement at the new arrivals.

All of whom were wearing the fatigue coloured robes that denoted the military.

One of them seemed to gather his wits quicker than the others, and he began to shout something.

Hagrid leaped toward the group.

The goblin armour must have done something to make his legs stronger, because there was no way that Hagrid should have been able to clear that distance in one jump.

Impossible as it was, he did it, unsheathing his axe in mid-air and bellowing out a battle cry.

As he landed he struck, cleaving the shouter in two with a single strike.

He lashed out with the axe, slicing deep into another one's belly. His shield smashed into a few of the soldiers, throwing three of them careening back.

' _Holy fucking shit.'_

They'd been there for less than a minute, and the battle started, with screams and shouts and spellfire splitting the peaceful African air.

Harry ran forward with a yell, slashing his wand as the Sasquatches and goblins leapt over him with their blades flashing.

Hagrid stood in the same spot, his axe and shield crashing into all around him, spell fire colliding harmlessly with his armour and turning him into a beacon of light and dazzling colour.

Harry chose a target, an African wizard who had backed away and was shooting curse after curse at the attackers.

Harry's explosive curse hit him, felling him with a smoking crater in his chest.

He spun, shooting off a spell at a witch who had Severus in her sights. Her head jerked to the left with a loud crack as her neck broke.

More shouts came, as soldiers started pouring out of the barracks.

He snarled as he ran, casting an earthquake hex at their feet.

It only lasted half a minute or so, but that was more than enough to distract them, to force them to deal with the roiling earth beneath their feet.

He made his way forward, his arm waving non-stop.

Blood splattered onto him, making his visor near impossible to see through.

As he cleared it with a scouring charm, something crashed into his breastplate, throwing him a few meters back.

While he struggled back to his feet, a goblin dived over his prone form, cutting down the soldier who'd hit him.

A Killing Curse hit that goblin, cracking his breastplate in two and dropping it off him in a mass of green fire.

The goblin got out of the way of the next one, rolling along the ground and coming up with his axe flashing at another enemy.

Harry spun, sending off a cutting curse with enough accuracy to slice a soldier's throat.

He ran forward, dropping the one Severus was fighting with a bone-breaker to the back.

He ran with Severus at his side, making way to the main fight.

As they moved, the goblin whose breastplate had broken fell with his innards splaying out.

The other goblin screamed, smashing his axe into a face.

Harry jumped over a body, waving his wand frantically and sending a gout of fire into an enemy about to cast something.

A stray spell smashed into his helmet, cracking the visor and ringing his head like a gong.

"Come on," Severus shouted, grabbing his arm and pulling him, "he needs help!"

He shrugged the helmet off as he ran, ducking under spellfire and looking around wildly.

After a moment, he spotted who they were going to rescue.

Emmett was in bad shape. His helmet was dented, blood filling the visor from the inside, and his armour was a charred mess at his feet.

But he stood, barely surviving as his wand blurred restlessly.

There were three soldiers facing him, and by the looks of things they were trying to stun him.

' _Of course. They want him alive.'_

He saw his alternate in his peripheral vision, casting what looked like some type of explosion before running toward them.

He managed to cut down one of Emmet's attackers, and the other two spun against him and Severus.

The one cast a bright yellow curse, the other a stunner.

The two jets of light hit, sending the stunner vertically into the air, and the yellow one right into Emmet's ruined helmet.

Which exploded, spraying blood and gore in a huge arc.

The ground shook as Hagrid bellowed, and a headless corpse came hurtling into the two soldiers.

Severus slashed his wand and a few jet-black lightning bolts crashed down onto them.

Hagrid roared, running over to where Alaloke was pulling the other injured Sasquatch away.

"RETREAT!"

He ignored Alaloke's order, blood aflame within him, the urge to attack not abated in the slightest.

The soldiers had pulled together, standing in a clumped line in front of the barracks and firing spell after spell.

"SEVERUS," he roared, "HELP ME!"

He began to spin his wand in a circular motion, incanting as he did, ending with a sharp upward jab.

The dusty earth between them and the soldiers rose in a swirling funnel, powerful winds buffeting it into a tornado.

"FIRE!" He shouted, and Severus obeyed.

He sent it forward, a flaming twister of death spinning its way toward the barracks.

"COVER ME!" He shouted, forcing Severus and his alternate to stay by his side as he controlled the tornado.

It steamrolled into the group of soldiers, engulfing those who didn't get out of the way in time in a fiery death.

His wand started growing warm, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he _pushed_ with everything he had, crashing the tornado into the barracks.

The barracks were heavily enchanted, the stone and wood not giving into the burning wind so easily.

He concentrated, ignoring Severus and his alternate's yells as they defended him, paying no heed to Hagrid and Frieda's frantic shouts for them to get the fuck out of there.

A spell crashed into his left hand, breaking his fingers and sending a jolting numbness through his arm.

"WE NEED TO GO," Severus screamed, "THEY'VE GOT REINFORCEMENTS COMING! WE NEED TO GO!"

He snarled, pushing the tornado once again into the building. He could feel it, the barracks' defences fighting back against his spell.

But their charms were weakening, slowly giving way under the onslaught.

Something smashed into his breastplate, cracking it.

"HARRY-"

"ONE FUCKING MINUTE! KEEP THEM OFF ME!"

As the barracks' defences fell, he gave one last push and shouted: "NOW!"

He spun, catching a glimpse of giant eagles swooping low and men jumping off of their backs as he Disapparated.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

"What happened, Bella?" He asked, almost pleadingly, "Why did you do it?"

She shrugged, looking down at his desk and fingering a knot in the wood.

"Come on. I need more than that. I had to order a bunch of Obliviations to cover for you, so the least you can do is tell me."

She murmured something.

"What was that?"

She looked up sharply, face flushed. "I said, I needed it. That's all. I needed it, I did it, and that's all there is to it."

He kept his sigh internal, fought off the urge to massage his forehead.

"What do you mean, you needed it?"

"You should know," she muttered, looking back down.

He quashed the rising tide of his temper.

' _Need to stay calm. Only way I'll actually get her to talk. Try a different tack.'_

"What happened with Eric, was it the same thing? That you felt you needed to do it?"

She hunched her back, saying nothing.

He sighed, stretching a hand out and onto her shoulder.

"Come on, Bella. I'm just trying to figure out what going on. Maybe I can help."

"Help?" She said incredulously, looking up with a perfect picture of scorn on her face. "You think that _you_ could help?"

"I think-"

She shrugged his arm off, her lips twisting.

"You want to know why I do it? It's because that's the only fucking time that I can feel anything! And that's all your fucking fault!"

"Bella," he said, choosing his words carefully, "I'm not sure what-"

"Of course you're not sure, of course! How could you possibly know what you did to me?"

Her voice sounded shrilly, biting into his ears.

He bit back his retort.

' _Stay calm. Don't lose your cool. Stay calm.'_

"You-you fucking made me into a-a mockery of a person, and you're not sure! What a gag! Brilliant, dad, fucking brilliant!"

"Bellona, you-"

"No!" She stood up, hands waving as she started to pace. "You don't even realize, do you? What you made me into? You don't even realize that I can't fucking relate to people! I-I-I just fucking can't! The only time I feel like I'm a real person is when I'm destroying someone else! And that's all because of you, because I am what you made me!"

The anger abruptly drained out of him, leaving a cold mass of horror to take its place.

' _Oh, fuck. This is worse than I thought, far, far worse.'_

But she didn't stop.

"I look at other people, and I talk to them and pretend to care, but it's like they don't even exist for all that they matter to me. And they can't matter, because I can't fucking see them as anything other than a possible target, just like how you taught me!"

' _This is not my fucking fault!'_

"I never taught you that," he said quietly, "I never-"

She threw back her head and cackled.

"You never taught me that? No, you just raised me in a way that it was clear that's what you thought and what you wanted me to think! I only even fucking realized how different I was the beginning of my second year at Hogwarts!"

"What happened then?" He asked, dreading the answer.

"I was talking to one of my roommates, you see. Talking about our holidays. I told her how amazing it was, that I went with you to work as usual and you finally let me take part in an interrogation,"

He could remember that. More than what was done to him, the prisoner had been broken by the fact that it was a child torturing him.

"And she was fucking horrified! She thought it was terrible, that it was wrong, that I shouldn't have been doing that so young. And you know, after that all the other kids were terrified of me! I didn't have any friends after that, they were all too scared!"

"You wanted to come," he said, just barely managing to keep his voice from dropping into a snarl, "are you forgetting that? You begged me for-"

"Of course I did! I was eleven fucking years old, and you'd been taking me with you to work for years already!"

She stopped her pacing, dropping back into her chair.

"How the fuck was I ever meant to see anyone as something real, when most people I met were being tortured?"

"I think you're exaggerating," he said, pushing his frustration down and keeping his voice even, "you came with a few times, and you always asked. And you did have friends as a kid-"

"Who? Besides our cousins, who the fuck did I have? Now the only people I can talk to without wanting to break them are my family! Is that normal? How am I meant to have a relationship with anyone when I can't fucking relate to them?"

"You had Eric. You and him were together for over a year. If it was really that impossible, you wouldn't have managed that."

"I managed a year," she growled, "because I kept telling myself that if I pretended for long enough then maybe I'd actually feel something for him. But I didn't, I didn't, I couldn't, I can't because you took that away from me! You stole it from me, you turned me into a-a monster! The only time I actually feel anything is when I'm drunk, or I'm fucking, or I'm breaking someone! That's all I am!"

' _Don't turn this around onto me, don't you-'_

He cut the thought off, refusing to allow anger to take control. A cool head, that's what he needed, that what this situation called for.

"That was never my intention. Everything I did, everything I taught you, it was so that you could be strong."

"And what good is strength when you're alone? What good is immortality when you'll never be able to share it with anyone? Because I might as well be a separate species for all I care about other humans."

Fear bubbled up in him, temporarily displacing the rage and guilt and self-loathing.

"You're not alone. You've got me and mum, the rest of your siblings, you've got-"

"And so much good you all are. Have they started telling you how they're scared of me yet, how they think I might turn on them?"

He looked into her eyes, shifting uncomfortably.

"None of us are worried about that."

"Liar," She crowed, "fucking liar! I've seen how you all look at me!"

"Bella, none of us-"

"Why do you think Hector's run away to America? All because I was lonely, because I thought maybe if it wasn't a stranger, maybe then the sex would do more than an hour of feeling. But no, Hector couldn't live with that, and Hector got scared that I'd force him!"

' _God. Fucking hell, this is a disaster.'_

"I've seen Damien's face when he comes home and I'm there, like he's worried I cut up his wife! I've noticed how you and mum act when we're all together, how you focus on everyone else more, just because they're normal. Like it's not your own fucking fault I'm not normal."

He breathed deeply, emptying his mind as much as he could.

"Bella, I think you need to get some help. More than I can give."

She stopped, her whole body going utterly still.

"I think," he continued, talking in a soft, gentle tone "that you should go to Saint Mungo's, maybe check yourself in for a bit. The Mind Healers could-"

"I DON'T NEED A FUCKING MIND HEALER!"

His hand twitched toward his wand, an instinctive response to the fury in her screech.

She noticed and smiled triumphantly.

"See?! You think I'm going to attack you! I WISH I FUCKING COULD!"

He winced, all but thrown back by the explosiveness of her outburst.

"I wish I could, I would I could show you just what you've done to me! I wish I could make you feel as empty as I do, but I can't! I can barely even fucking hate you! I guess all your bullshit about not hurting family actually did something!"

He couldn't think of a single thing to say. Her words echoed through his mind, pounding against the walls of his thoughts with the finality of a funeral bell.

' _Try me, bi-'_

He shook his head, forcing the emotion to vanish, forcing himself to try and think rationally.

"You-you don't even care, do you?! After everything you've done to me, you don't even care! It's not like I'm one of your normal children, someone you can be proud of! No, I'm the one you have to hide away and pretend doesn't exist except when it suits you!"

"I've never-"

"Liar! Admit it, you fucking wish I was just like them! Well, so do I!"

"Bella, I've always loved you. You were my favourite."

"If that's what happens to your favourites, I wish I wasn't. You broke me. I could have been something, could have felt something! But you stole that from me!"

"I never meant that," he said, "I never wanted any of this!"

"You sure as fuck acted like you did! What did you teach me as a child, other than different ways to kill people?"

Someone knocked on the door.

Bella started giggling.

"I'm busy right now," he called, not looking away from her, stretching his arm out to her again.

"It's Blaise, sir," Helga said, "he says it's urgent."

"Let him in," Bella urged, "it's not like this is important. It's not like I'm one of your normal children, someone who matters to you."

"Tell him to come back later."

' _Fuck, but I should have seen this coming. I should have been smarter.'_

"Bella, it's not too late. I fucked up, I admit it, but nothing's set in stone, we can-"

"He says he needs to see you now, sir," Helga called, sounding nervous, "he's very insistent."

"Tell him that he's got one minute."

Bella muttered something.

"I'm sorry, but-"

Blaise walked in, pausing for a moment to look at the two of them.

"Attack in Swaziland. A big one. They took out the barracks there, killed a lot of the soldiers."

"What makes that so urgent that you couldn't wait for me to be available?"

"Because the other two versions of you were there, and that other Snape. And it seems to have inspired the natives there, we've got the beginnings of a full-blown uprising on our hands."

He started to stand, then a glance at Bella made him sit back down.

"Authorize whatever reinforcements they need. Send a hit-squad from here. Don't divert from the rest of Africa, the last thing we need is the rest of them getting bright ideas. Get the Japanese Department involved, things have been quiet there."

"Already been speaking to some of the men here, but I think-"

"Don't send too many from here. We don't want to leave a hole here either. Send the Vampires, let them take command of the Inferi there. The Vampires and one hit-squad from here, and a few squads from Japan. That should be enough."

"I hope so," he said, "but-"

"It'll be enough to get started. We'll talk again in a few hours. Go, get onto that."

"Bella," He said, once the door had closed behind Blaise, "we can work on this, we can fix it."

She looked at him, naked uncertainty scrawled across her face.

"You can change. We can help you. It won't be easy, but we can make this better."

"Why should I have to suffer for your mistakes?"

The pain in her voice, clearly evident for the first time in the conversation rocked him, cutting into his heart.

"Because that's your only option, if you really want things to get better."

He reached out, clasping her cold fingers in his, trying to express the depths of his regret with a touch.

"I love you, Bella. How could I not? And I wish I'd been better, I wish I hadn't hurt you so much. I wish I'd at least known what I was doing. But I didn't. And there's no way to change the past. The only thing to do now is to look forward."

Hope lit its fire in him, burning stronger when she gripped his hand back.

"We can do it, Bella. It's not too late. Not too late for your mother and I to do better. Not too late for us to at least try and make up for what we did. We can help you."

She looked like the little girl she'd once been, staring at him with a lost and frightened expression.

"I want you to take some time off. And tomorrow, you, me, and your mother will sit down together and talk. We'll see what we can do."

"But-but I think it is too late."

His heart broke, shattered into a thousand shards at the hopelessness he heard from her.

"It isn't. It isn't. The Mind Healers can work wonders, and we're with you."

Her expression changed, flying into a scornful sneer.

"Now you're with me. Now, when it's starting to affect you. But when it was just me, you didn't care. You can't make up for a lifetime of fuckups, not with a few stupid bullshit words. You can't put something in me that you took away and tore to shreds. It's too late."

She stood up, ripping her hand away from his.

"Bella, please, don't-"

"I will take some time off. I need time to think. And maybe, maybe I will sit with you and mum. Or maybe I'll manage to hate you. Maybe I'll be able to overcome one part of your teaching."

He jumped to his feet, his pulse racing and carrying a terrible unknown fear with it.

"Bella, you-"

"Maybe you will be able to fix me. Maybe it's not too late. But I shouldn't fucking be in this position in the first place! This is all your fault!"

She ran out of the room, paying no mind to his calling her name.

He stood there for a few minutes, watching as she disappeared down the corridor and her footsteps faded off into the distance.

' _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.'_

* * *

 _Bellona Potter_

She kept her mind clear as she walked to the cells, refused to think about what had just happened.

A part of her was actually happy about it. A part that had been waiting for so long to say it, to show him what he'd done, how he'd ruined her.

That he'd hated her enough to make her special.

She hoped he was feeling like shit. She hadn't been lying about not being able to hurt him, not being able to hurt any of her family.

No matter how much she wished that she could.

No matter how much she fervently wished that she could just make him feel the void like she did, make him feel as alone and pained as she did.

' _Maybe there is a way. Maybe, maybe I can work my way up, slowly break the conditioning. Or maybe I should try and get fixed. Maybe I should try and get better.'_

But then what would she be? What would be with the personality she'd spent the last ten years carefully constructing, the personality that stopped people from realizing just how empty she truly was?

' _Maybe I could be happy. Probably not. It's too late. It's been too late since the day I was born.'_

She strode up to the first cell. The two guards on duty nodded to her.

"Open it."

They did, inserting the keys and pulling open the door.

She walked in and scowled at the guard sitting in her chair.

"Get out."

"I-we were told there wouldn't be-"

"Get. Out."

He jumped to his feet, running out of the room.

"And close that fucking door!"

She sat down, looking over the prisoner.

He really was a work of art. She'd been careful not to damage his face too much, preferring instead to maintain the contrast between it and the rest of his body.

His left leg was gone all the way up to the knee, and the thigh was totally ruined, covered in cuts and burns, the muscle visible as it twitched in his sleep.

His hands were mangled, fingers twisted to grow into strange and unnatural shapes.

Although she had mostly left his face untouched, she had permitted herself to take his eyelids, and of course all of the hair.

Somehow though, he still managed to sleep, even with the light shining right into his bloodshot eyes.

She sighed, waving her wand and waking him with a small electric shock.

He jerked awake, eyes slowly focusing on her.

"In your world, does Harry Potter have a daughter?"

He started to nod, then remembered her rules.

"Y-Yes, Mistress."

"Is she happy?"

He answered quickly, like a dog eager to please its master.

"I think so, I-I think she is, she seems so, she-"

"Does she have a boyfriend? Friends? People she cares about?"

"Yes. Sh-she's very popular, she's always spending time with-with her friends, with J-Justin, her b-boyfrend."

She nodded, running her hand across his cheek as she stood.

"Good boy."

A part of her thought about playing with him a little, maybe sewing his lips closed and forcing him to tear them apart if he wanted to breathe. Her heartbeat quickened just at the thought.

' _But what's the fucking point? I'll just be empty again afterward.'_

She overruled her desires and left the room, scowling at the guards as she passed them.

She walked toward the other prisoner's cell, trying to figure out what it meant. If she wasn't this broken thing in the other worlds,

was that enough of a proof? Did that confirm what she believed, that it wasn't something inherent in her?

No, it didn't. In that world, Harry Potter had no children with Daphne Greengrass. In that world, her mother was a different person entirely, her genes were different, and she was a different person.

It wasn't a proof, but it did add to her evidence.

The guards at the Mudblood's door were obviously expecting her. They opened the door immediately, and the guard inside walked out as she entered.

The Mudblood was awake, peering out at the world through her disgusting face.

God, but it was ugly.

"You are married to Harry Potter in your world, correct?"

The Mudblood didn't answer as quickly as her toy had. Well, it wasn't like she could expect her father to get anything right.

"I am."

"Do you have a daughter with him?"

Another pause, the silence rubbing against her nerves like a cheese grater.

"Yes. Lily."

"What a fucking stupid name. Is she happy?"

"I-please, I-"

"Answer the fucking question. Is she happy?"

"Yes, she's happy, she's-"

"Does she have friends? A boyfriend? People she cares about?"

"She-she has friends, lots of them, she loves them, they-"

"A boyfriend?"

"J-Jason. They-they're probably going to get married, once he's finished his Mastery."

She nodded. Nothing more than she expected, really.

She left the room deep in thought, trying to figure out what it all meant.

It wasn't a proof, it couldn't be. But it felt like one. It felt right, that it was all her parents' fault that they had made her into an abomination.

' _I need to think. I need to go somewhere where I won't be bothered, where I can plan my next move.'_

Luckily, she had just the place on mind.

* * *

 _Hermione Potter_

Something prodded her on the shoulder, trying to break her out of her fitful sleep.

She groaned, not willing to wake up fully, not willing to face another day.

She didn't even know what number day it would be. Only that it had been far too long.

And that Harry hadn't come for her yet.

"Wake up, Granger!"

It wasn't a voice she was used to, it was far deeper, sounding like it was being modulated by some charm.

' _And they don't call me Granger. Only Mudblood. Mudblood Mudblood Mudblood, scream Mudblood, beg and plead and talk, Mudblood.'_

"I'm risking my life for you, so wake the fuck up!"

' _He must know I'm awake. I need to show him before he punishes me.'_

She opened her eyes, blinking in the sudden stream of light.

Someone stood before her. Someone she didn't recognize. He was wearing a hood over his head, and she saw nothing but darkness in the few glimpses she caught of his face.

The guard lay unconscious, stretched out on the floor.

"Come on, Granger. Let's get you out of here."

' _It's a trap. They want to see how I'll react. I need to show them that I'm not fighting, I'm not trying to escape.'_

He raised his wand, aiming at the manacles on her hands.

"This might hurt. Brace yourself."

' _It's a trap.'_

"No! No, I'm not allowed, I'm not-I need to stay here, I need-"

The wand faltered, invisible eyes needling into her.

"You have no idea how much I'm risking for you," He hissed, "so don't make this any harder for me. I'm letting you go, understand? I'm taking you to the others. Now, brace yourself."

"NO! PLEASE, THEY'LL DO MORE, I'M NOT ALLOWED-"

He slapped her roughly, opening some of the half-healed cuts on her face.

"Shut up! This isn't a fucking trick! I'm taking you out of here!"

He waved his wand, and the manacles shot open with a scream of metal breaking.

"Wh-why?" She whimpered. "Why would you-would you risk yourself for me?"

' _I'm nothing, I'm nothing, and he didn't come, and I've been here forever, why didn't he come, why didn't he come?'_

He stayed silent, bending down and working on the chains on her legs.

God, but terrible as it was, it felt good to have her hands free.

A miracle.

"Did-did Harry send you?"

Another sequel, and her legs were free.

"The rebels sent me. Come on, stand up."

' _If they catch me-if they catch me-'_

Her mind gibbered at the thought.

"Come on!"

He grabbed her arm, pulling her up into a standing position.

Her legs began to buckle under her, unable to carry so much weight.

She must have been there for months, for her muscles to have atrophied like that.

' _At least months, at least, oh god, this isn't happening, this is just a dream, and when I wake up he'll be there to hurt me, no, I want to just be asleep.'_

"Come on. You need to be ready. Any minute now, and I'll have your ride out of here."

"This is a lovely dream," she said, her voice weak and wavering, "I wish I could always have dreams like this."

When he next spoke, she was sure she heard pity in his voice.

"Merlin's balls. What've they done to you?"

There was a flash of golden fire, and a bird appeared.

A Phoenix. One that she recognized, even though she hadn't seen it for years, and even then only a few times.

"Fawkes," she said with a laugh. "Who else is going to come? Dobby? Kreacher?"

"Grab his tail."

She obeyed the voice instinctively, stroking Fawkes with a trembling hand first.

There was no reason to be afraid. Not when she was having such a marvellous dream. In fact, she might as well enjoy it before she was woken up to scream some more.

"Tell them-tell them I'm sorry I couldn't get you out earlier. I am, Granger. I wish I could have."

She let the meaningless words flow through her, as she rubbed Fawkes' beautiful plumage with the hand that wasn't holding his tail.

"Don't be long, Fawkes. I need you back here if I'm to survive this."

Fawkes let out a mournful chirp, a sound that echoed through her soul and set her blood aflame.

Then there was fire all around her, and she was spinning, spinning and vanishing, catching one last glimpse of the shadowed man as she disappeared.

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	9. Chapter 8--Catalyst

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Chapter 8–Catalyst

"What a blessed if painful thing, this business of being alive."-Joe Hill—NOS4A2

* * *

 _12 May 2028_

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32_

"YOU DIDN'T COME!" she had screamed the moment she saw him, "I WAITED, BUT YOU DIDN'T COME! WHY DIDN'T YOU COME?"

He couldn't get that out of his mind, couldn't get the hurt in his Hermione's voice to stop cutting into him.

He shook his head as he turned, continuing to restlessly pace the corridor outside the infirmary, grinding his teeth and kicking at the floor.

Everything had happened so fast, since Ron and Hermione had been rescued.

His memories of the last few hours were all jumbled together, a blurred mix of sights and sounds and frantic emotions.

Everything had gone insane when Ron had arrived.

Luna had told them that the spy thought he might be able to rescue Ron and Hermione that night, but there'd been no real warning before Fawkes suddenly appeared with Ron's broken form.

He shuddered, thinking of the other Hermione's hysterics at the sight.

The sudden appearance had shocked everyone into a flurry of motion. They'd been in one of the caverns; Harry, his alternate, Severus, Ginny, the other Hermione, Luna, Rolf, Hagrid, and a few other members of the rebellion. They hadn't really been doing anything, just sitting around and drinking beer and chatting.

Then Fawkes had appeared from nowhere.

The cavern had been instantly transformed into a hectic flurry of motion; with Ron being hurried out on a hastily conjured stretcher, the other Hermione following him in hysterics, and everyone else shouting and trying to make sense of what had just happened.

It would have better if Ron had been unconscious when they took him to the infirmary. That way, at least, they all wouldn't have been forced to listen to him crying and begging and pleading for mercy.

It would have been even better if Harry hadn't caught a clear glimpse of his poor mangled form.

What he saw had stopped him dead in his tracks, sending a terrible fear coursing through his veins.

He barely even had time to process what had been done to Ron before Fawkes reappeared.

With Hermione, his Hermione, in tow.

Time had seemed to stop, as he ran to her side with a pounding heart.

And she'd flailed ineffectually at him, weakly pushing him away as she'd cried and screamed.

He paused in his pacing, rubbing a hand across his forehead, wishing the memory would somehow stop hurting.

But he knew that it wouldn't. He knew that no matter what would come, he'd never be able to forget the look in Hermione's eyes, the expression of hatred on her marred and ruined face as she'd shouted at him, berating him for not rescuing her.

Then she'd passed out.

He almost had as well. God, nothing he'd ever experienced had been worse than seeing her face right then, seeing what they'd done to it, what they'd done to his Hermione.

He'd thought he'd prepared himself, he'd thought he'd had an idea of what they'd do to her.

He'd been wrong.

She was rushed to the infirmary, and he'd followed.

And then he'd been kicked out, told that he was disturbing the Healers and that they'd update him when they'd finished their diagnostics and had come up with a plan to fix her.

So for the last four or five hours he'd been pacing, alone with his thoughts.

The other Hermione had disappeared, all but dragged away by his counterpart, Ginny, and Luna.

Severus was busy in their makeshift potions lab, trying to make whatever it was the Healers needed.

So he was left there, alone with his thoughts.

At least there were plenty of Healers, real ones.

When Luna had left with the other Hermione, she'd paused by his side for a moment, and tried to comfort him.

She'd told him that the rebels had more Healers than any other profession, that many Healers, who had sworn to care for people, were unable to allow themselves to support the Empire, that they'd chosen to join the rebels.

It wasn't a comfort. It helped him block out the terror that they wouldn't be able to fix her, but it did nothing for the furious pain burning in him.

It did nothing to stop the uncontrollable rage slowly boiling up.

The infirmary door opened, making him spin back around.

One of the Healers walked out, looking beyond exhausted.

There was blood all over his apron.

"Mr. Potter, a word, please."

He nodded as he approached the man, not trusting himself to talk.

"We've identified the curses used on her, and have come up with a plan to deal with them."

He made a swirling motion with his hand, motioning for the Healer to keep on going.

"We are going to place her in a magical coma. It's our best option. Some of the curses on her simply cannot be removed while she is awake."

"What type of curses?"

The Healer hesitated for a moment, forcing Harry to fight down an urge to simply shake the man.

"There seems to have been a time-dilation spell placed on her, to distort how she views the passage of time. There is a muscle atrophying curse, and a few others whose purpose we believe are to induce nightmares and raise her anxiety and fear levels and the like."

Harry closed his eyes, visions of fire and death dancing behind them.

"We believe that once we start on healing her wounds, it will be exceptionally painful. It will be easier for us to do what we need to, and to monitor her vitals, if she is unconscious at the time. Besides, she seems to have been sleep deprived. We will be able to heal her, that I assure you, but it will take time."

He didn't open his eyes.

"Tell me about her injuries."

The healer put a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder, and when he spoke it was with a soft tone, one that miraculously didn't grate against Harry's nerves.

"Before I tell you about them," he said, "you need to know this. We have successfully treated injuries far worse than hers, in the past. We've even successfully treated injuries worse than those Mr. Weasley has suffered. We can heal her, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded, opening his eyes and staring into the Healer's guileless face.

"You saw her face. We're going to have to regrow much of the skin, as well as her nose. But first, we need to deal with the cuts, burns, and boils. We will have to regrow four teeth. She has a fractured skull, and her eardrums have been pierced. There is some damage to the trachea, as well as to her lungs. Her ribs need fixing, and she has numerous bones that have been broken and then badly set. And there are a few infections we need to deal with."

"H-how long?" He asked, his voice a hoarse mess. "How long will she be in the coma for? How long is the treatment going to take?"

"At least five days in the coma. More than that, I can't tell you. It all depends on the potions Sn-Snape makes, and how her body reacts. Magic can take us far, but in healing, it can't do everything. We will have to wait and see."

He nodded again, the furious rage starting to boil in his gut, eating at his insides.

"We haven't put her under yet. You can come and see her if you wish. But only for a few minutes."

Harry didn't even have to think about it. He was through the infirmary doors the instant the words registered, making his way to her side.

She lay on a bed, bandages covering her face, her eyes two holes in the cotton.

Now that he'd heard more in-depth about her injuries, he could see the way her arms and legs didn't seem to be quite right. He recognized with a painful jolt how they lay contorted at odd angles.

He could hear her breathing, and it sounded weak and rough.

But she was alive.

He took her hand gently, terrified of hurting her accidentally, and her eyes slowly focused on him.

"I'm here, Hermione," he whispered, "I'm here with you."

"Harry?" She rasped.

"That's me. It's me."

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, threatening to make her blur before him.

He couldn't allow that. He drank in her appearance, carved her wounds into his mind, fed the pain into the pyre of his fury.

"W-why didn't you c-come? Is it because I'm-I'm nothing?"

Tears flooded down his face, dripping onto her bandages.

"I couldn't. I couldn't come. I love you so much, you aren't nothing, you're everything, you're everything to me. I wanted to come, I wanted to come, but I couldn't."

He wanted to weep, to drop to the floor and sob his apologies.

But he had to be strong. He had to at least appear strong to her, to give her courage.

"He-he said you didn't. That you don't care. I-he wanted to hurt me. He hurt me. I thought you would come and save me. I hoped and hoped, but you didn't come."

His legs turned to jelly, the absolute despondency in her voice biting into him. She sounded like someone who'd been through the worst, someone who'd been downtrodden for decades. Not like Hermione, not like his Hermione, the rock of his life.

"They're going to put you to sleep for a little bit, Hermione. Just so they can heal you better."

Her hand tightened on his, brittle bones squeezing onto him.

"Is this really real?" She asked urgently, "this isn't a-a hallucination?"

"I promise you, love, this is real. I love you. I love you so much. This is real. It's real."

"I-I-I love you, but you didn't come!"

One of the Healers came up to him.

"We're going to put her under now," she whispered into his ear, "it's time for you to go."

He leaned down, kissing Hermione on her bandaged forehead.

"Sleep well, dear. Rest. When you wake up, you'll be a lot better."

"I hope I have good dreams," she said, "if-If this is real, maybe I will. Maybe they won't all be bad."

"They won't. I promise. This is all real, and you're gonna get better."

"Please, Mr. Potter," the Healer whispered again, "we need to calm her down, and you're making her heartbeat race."

"I love you," he said, and walked out, his fury rising toward an explosive crescendo.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters_

He punched the wall, his knuckles cracking and tearing open.

"FUCK!"

He punched it again, leaving blood dotting the rough stone.

"FUCKING FAILURES! ONE FUCKING THING AFTER ANOTHER! WHY CAN'T PEOPLE JUST BE FUCKING COMPETENT?!"

He could all but hear Blaise squirming.

He punched the wall a third time before leaning against it, breathing heavily.

Being woken up at six in the morning was bad enough.

But being woken up to be told this? That was a disaster.

He'd been woken up with terrible news, and nothing in the three hours since had served to improve his mood.

He was barely even holding back from attacking Blaise, and he could only even manage that much since he'd had an opportunity for stress relief.

 _'And now I need to get another house-slave.'_

He walked back to his desk, dropping into his chair.

"Let's go over this again," he said, trying to keep his temper down, "the facts. The guards outside the cells were found under a powerful sleep charm. The guards inside each cell were stunned. And they have no memories of it."

Blaise nodded.

"The Anti-Apparation and Portkey Wards and Jinxes were still up, so we can rule out them coming in that way. But the guards outside the corridor entrance weren't hit and didn't see anyone coming in. There are no tunnels. So, we have no idea who it was, or how they got in and out. That's the gist of it, right?"

"Exactly," Blaise said with a sigh.

Harry slammed his fist onto his desk, denting the wood slightly.

Blaise jumped, but Daphne didn't react, just continued to sit there, staring into the distance.

"Fuck! Fucking fuck!"

He breathed deeply, trying to clear his anger away.

It didn't work. It never did.

"And no-one other than Bella went to see them yesterday?"

"No."

"And they broke the manacles. They had to have known the countercurse. Anything else would have killed Weasley and the Mudblood. Fuck."

Blaise stayed silent, not saying a word.

"Snape's still busy with the guards?"

"Yeah. He'd finished checking one of them, just before I came here. He said there was no memory of it. If he was Obliviated, it was done really well, he said."

Harry rose again, furious energy needing a release, and walked over the window, looking out with his hands clasped behind his back.

The sun was shining through a crack in the clouds, a beam of light hitting the fountain outside Headquarters.

"When he's done with them," he said, not turning around, "I want them executed."

"No."

He turned, impaling Blaise with his glare.

"No? That's the price of failure! They lost the prisoners! They fucked up, and we'll show the others what happens when you fuck up!"

"Harry, mate, we can't know-"

"I DON'T GIVE A FUCK! DO IT, BLAISE!"

But Blaise stood his ground, setting his jaw and speaking hurriedly.

"Harry, we can't just do that! We can't execute six men because an enemy got the better of them! We don't know who the spy is, it might be a commanding officer! It's not like with the other prisoner! I won't order my men killed for losing a fight!"

"Blaise," he said, voice shaking with fury, "don't fucking disobey me on this. This is going to cost us big time."

"If you kill them, what will it do for everyone else's morale? What will it do for recruitment?"

 _'I don't fucking care!'_

But he did care. He had to care about such things, much as he wished he could just vent his rage.

He flopped back into his chair, wishing he couldn't see the logic and truth in Blaise's words.

"Fine. Fine. Don't kill them. But they're demoted. And they're doing Muggle work for a month. And when we find out who did it, when we find out what happened, we'll revisit their punishment. Understood?"

"Deal. That'll be enough. It'll embarrass them, make them a laughingstock, push them to do better."

"We need something," Harry growled, "something to go off of. We need to find out who fucking did this!"

"Harry," Blaise said, "I'm not-not accusing or anything. But I overheard you and B-Bellona yesterday. And it sounded like-"

"It wasn't her."

 _'It better fucking not have been.'_

"I'm just-I'm just saying, that-"

His wand was out in a flash, aimed right at Blaise's heart.

"Blaise. Shut the fuck up. It wasn't Bella."

Blaise paled.

"I didn't-"

"It was the spy. It had to have been."

"We still don't know who that is," Blaise said, recovering his composure quite admirably, although his face was still whiter than usual, "this only narrows things down to thirty or so possibilities."

He nodded, grinding his teeth together, trying to squash the terrible seed of doubt spouting up in his chest.

 _'It could have been-'_

"I want those fucking rebels, and I want to-"

He paused, cocking his head as the idea hit.

"Maybe," he said, a grim smile spreading, "we can use this."

Blaise just looked at him questioningly.

"If the spy took them to the others, they'll see what we did. And they'll be pissed. And terrified. They'll make stupid mistakes. We'll be able to find them."

Blaise nodded, a light dawning in his eyes. "I'll send the word out," he promised, "make sure everyone's on guard, more than usual, even."

"I don't know if we have to be worried so much about everyone else. They'll come here. They'll come for us."

"Are you sure? They went after Africa before, and-"

"They could have been me. Or I could have been them. If they're anything like me, they'll be coming after the people responsible. Remember what we did when Theo was killed?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, not needing an answer.

"That's what they'll want to do," he said, leaning back in his chair, the idea seeming more and more right with every second that passed. "They'll want us, so they'll come here. Well, we just have to be ready. And see if we can lure them in. If we can push them to come."

Blaise nodded, stroking his stubble and looking thoughtful.

"Weasley and Granger, they confirmed that they wanted Rookwood, right?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe we can use that. To catch the spy."

Blaise leaned forward, his face lighting up.

"It really could work. We get someone to act as Rookwood. I mean, Polyjuice and everything. And we let people know that's what's going on. But we keep it between us that there are two guards with the real Rookwood, under Disillusionments or Invisibility Cloaks."

Harry's mind raced, flying through possibilities.

"It really could work," Blaise continued, sounding excited, "Merlin, but we could pull it off. We let people with a high enough security clearance know that Rookwood's being impersonated and that the real one's just hiding in his house, we let the word spread in those circles. But no-one outside of the three of us and a few guards will know about the guards with Rookwood. And when the spy comes for him, we'll have him or her."

"The guards," Harry said slowly, "we'd have to use people who couldn't be the spy. People who couldn't know enough to be them. And we make them take secrecy oaths. We'd need at least eight, so we could have four shifts."

"People who are good at stealth. I can think of a few offhand. I'll check the files, find a few more."

"Good," Harry said, "it really could work. God, but we might actually get something good out of this disaster."

"Fuck, I hope so," Blaise said fervently, "we need a success, Harry. Things haven't been amazing lately, we need something to make everyone feel better."

"We'll have it. We'll fucking have it. Anything on the Scamanders?"

Just as Blaise opened his mouth, someone knocked on the door.

"Professor Snape's here for you, sir. Shall I send him in?"

"Thank you, Helga. Please do."

The door opened, and Snape walked in.

He looked his usual sallow self, although his hair did seem less greasy.

 _'Aliza's probably been on his back about it again.'_

"Nothing," Snape said before anyone could ask, "None of them have any memories of it."

"None? Were they Obliviated?"

Snape sat down, looking slightly perturbed. "Nothing. I don't believe they were Obliviated. I think they were simply knocked out before they could notice anything. The guard in Weasley's cell, the last thing he remembered was a flash of reddish light. Whoever it was, they made their way in without being seen or heard, and Stunned him before he realized their presence."

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, all but ready to pull it out.

"Do you have any ideas about how they could have done it?" He asked, "Gotten in? They didn't enter the corridor the normal way, and the cell doors were still locked. How the fuck did they pull this off?!"

"I haven't the slightest."

"Shit," he muttered. "Nothing new on Sprout?"

"Not a thing. I assure you, she has nothing to do with the rebels. She only wants to look after her children."

"But the rebels, they probably want to leave this world," Harry said, "that's what our alternates want. If I were one of them, I'd be trying to convince as many people to join me."

"As would I," Snape said, "no matter how different this version of me is, I'm sure that's what he would be trying to do."

Snape looked at his watch with a scowl.

"I have a class in fifteen minutes. Once again, I need to try to drum the importance of concentration into a bunch of idiotically hormonal teenagers."

"You know, you've had dozens of chances to quit," Harry said. "If you really hated it that much, you would have."

Snape stood up, rolling his eyes. "I do hate it that much. It just happens to be that I find teaching to be the least reprehensible career I'm interested in. Should I tell your class you won't make it today?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. But collect their essays, please, and send them onto me. Tell them I'll try to have them back next week."

"Of course."

Without bothering to give a farewell, Snape left the room.

"Fine. Blaise, get me a list of people you think could be appropriate to guard Rookwood and find someone to impersonate him. And get me full reports from Africa, and anywhere else that there's been significant terrorist activity. We need to find these fuckers. I want everyone on the lookout for any sign, anything. I want people watching for strange Apparition patterns or anything like it. And before anything with Rookwood, I want it made very clear to him that we fucking need a way to find where a Fidelius is."

"I'll get right into it," Blaise promised, standing up, "can I send Rookwood to you?"

Harry nodded.

"And Blaise?"

Blaise stopped, turning his head back to Harry.

"Make sure that those guards know that if they ever fuck up again, they'll wish you hadn't stopped me from having them executed."

Harry waited a few minutes after Blaise had left before turning to Daphne.

She was still sitting in basically the exact same position, staring at the wall with unblinking, cloudy eyes.

"Daph?"

She didn't respond.

He sighed and leaned back, waiting for her to be done.

It didn't take long. Only a few minutes later she shook her head and turned to him, her eyes noticeably less misty than they had been.

"No luck?" He asked softly.

"None. I must have tried ten times, but she won't put up the connection on her side. None of the others have seen or heard from her, and I can't fucking get a read on her location."

"Me neither."

"Do you really-really think she wouldn't-wouldn't be involved in this?"

He hugged Daphne close, hating the despondency in her voice.

"Not a chance. If it had been her, she wouldn't have left any of the guards alive. And she'd have wanted to make sure we knew it was her."

"God, Harry. How did we fuck up so badly? I spent half my life hating my father for how he raised me, and then I turned around and-and did the same thing to her."

Her voice cracked, raw emotion flooding out.

"My little girl, and we ruined her. How could we? How the fuck could we?"

"We didn't raise her that differently to the others," he said, trying to soothe her, trying not to let his own feelings rise, "we-"

Daphne laughed, a sound like glass breaking.

"Of course we did! Damien was the same age as Lucius, and Hector the same as Scorpius and Theo. They were always with their friends. And Livia had Helena. They-they had their childhoods. But she was alone, so we focused on her. God. The child we spent the most time with is the most fucked-up of the bunch. What does that say about us?"

"We were barely more than children ourselves," he whispered, burying his face in her hair, "we knew we'd make mistakes. We just-after Damien turned out so well, and Hector was going the same way, we couldn't imagine anything going wrong with what we were doing. We couldn't imagine anything going wrong with our Bella."

"But it did. We were too wilfully blind to see it. We should have noticed, Harry. We should have noticed that she didn't really have friends, that she preferred to come to work than to go out with friends. We should have said something after her first boyfriend."

"We didn't," he said, "maybe we should have, but we didn't. We can't dwell on that. We have to keep on moving forward. We have to do whatever we can to help her."

But Daphne was shaking her head.

"We can only help her if she wants to be helped. And I can't blame her for not wanting our help. Can you?"

"What are you saying?"

She pulled away from him, moving back and staring into his eyes.

Tears were making their way down her face, magnifying her wax-like features as they went.

"I'm saying that it may be too late. That it isn't up to us. And that if she doesn't want help, if she really is serious about what she said to you, we have to be prepared to make some difficult decisions."

He froze, his heart pounding harder than it ever had before.

"Daph, we-"

She shook her head, the fire he'd always found so seductive starting to burn in her eyes.

"If she did it, we can't cover it up. And if she comes after us, if she goes after our children-"

"She is one of our children!"

Daphne ignored the interruption, her voice gaining strength as she went.

"We can't allow that to happen. You know what she'd do just as well as I do. You know how she treats the prisoners. If she turns on us, we'll have to deal with her."

"I am not going to kill my daughter!" He hissed.

"As if we could. I don't know what she's made into Horcruxes, or where she keeps them. Do you?"

He shook his head, mute.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a total Obliviation, we-"

"Just destroy everything that makes her who she is!"

"And what's your plan? If she decided that she wants revenge, what are you going to do? Just let her have her way? Try and reason with her? For fuck's sake, you have to face reality! We fucked up big time, but now we need to deal with the consequences!"

He closed his eyes, memories of Bellona as a child flashing before him like a series of photographs.

"I just don't want to give up on her."

"Hope for the best," Daphne said quietly, "and plan for the worst. That's what I'm doing. I'm not giving up on her."

"It feels like we are. If we start planning-"

Daphne grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, pulling him forward.

"I am not fucking giving up on her. I'm going to do whatever I can to make sure she comes back to us, that she gets whatever help she can. And at the very least, that she doesn't decide to attack us! But I'm not sticking my head in the sand! We made enough mistakes when it comes to her. If we're not ready and she decides to attack, that'll be the last fucking mistake with her we make!"

"Hope for the best," he said, the words bitter on his tongue, "and prepare for the worst. I guess that's what we're doing. Fucking hell."

* * *

 _Bellona Potter_

She lay on the bed in her hideaway, swirling the little figurine between her fingers.

She'd set this place up a few years back. It was a small house, little more than a hut really, out in the middle of nowhere in the Welsh countryside.

There weren't any living people to be found anywhere near, and that suited her just fine.

It wasn't much. Just a small bedroom and bathroom, with some food under stasis charms and a few changes of clothes.

She'd hidden it under as many privacy charms as she could manage, adding a Fidelius just to top it off.

It was just a place for her to go and be alone with her thoughts, a place where no one could find her.

A place where she kept one of her five Horcruxes.

Her first, actually. A shard of her soul, crammed into a figurine her father had made for her, a crystal statuette of a girl with a wand.

She rolled it between her fingers and debated destroying it.

She, like all her siblings, had made her first Horcrux at the age of fifteen.

It had been a dreadfully stupid thing to do.

She hadn't known the theory behind what she was doing, hadn't truly understood the consequences of removing a piece of her soul. She'd just listened to her parents' instructions, read as much as she needed to for it to work, and gone through with the rituals.

Like an idiot.

It was only later that she'd read more in depth. When she had been preparing for making the first one, she hadn't bothered with the warnings, hadn't bothered to read the fine print.

Only later did she do that, and by then, like with everything else in her life, it was too late.

She'd started studying Soul Magic in detail around the age of eighteen.

And she'd learned so many things. She'd learned that making a Horcrux could exacerbate a feeling of disconnect between the maker and the rest of humanity. She'd learned that the only known way to reabsorb a Horcrux was through remorse, through actually feeling bad for the people she'd killed, for the lives she'd ruined.

And she'd read the theories, that if a person's Horcrux was destroyed and they were then killed, they would be stuck in some form of terrible purgatory.

Probably. None of the theories had been confirmed.

By the time she discovered all of this, she was eighteen years old and had successfully made and hidden away three Horcruxes, and had been preparing to make her fourth.

Too late to take it back.

Too late to change anything, for the girl who couldn't feel remorse. Who could barely feel anything.

Too late, too late.

Far too late to turn back, she'd plunged onward, creating a fourth, and then a fifth.

And now, even if she would be prepared to face purgatory, that choice was denied her.

She had been oh so clever, when it came time to hide away her second Horcrux.

After putting all the usual protections on it, after making it impossible to be summoned or tracked, she'd thrown the ruby into the ocean and watched as a piece of her soul sank to the depths.

So clever. Make it impossible to be found, impossible for an enemy to destroy.

All but impossible for her to find and destroy.

She sighed, throwing the statuette onto the ground, not deigning to watch as it rolled under the bed.

 _'Two options, now. Become what they want me to, or make them feel like I do. Show them what it's like to be empty and alone.'_

They'd ruined her. They hadn't paid a single thought to what they were doing, by denying her a childhood, by denying her a possibility of a real life.

They hadn't cared. Why should she care?

Why shouldn't she hate them?

 _'I'd bet Agrippa feels the same as me. Not Livia, though. Stuck-up bitch. Definitely not Hector or Damien. All of them with their lives, with their friends and happiness. Why shouldn't I hate them? Why shouldn't I show them? Why?'_

She'd been lying there for almost twenty-four hours, trying to find an answer. Searching within herself, trying to see if there truly was a reason that she shouldn't show them, or if it was simply a natural result of the years of being told how important family was.

Think as she might, search as she did, she kept coming up dry.

 _'They ruined me. I should do the same. I shouldn't care. I shouldn't allow myself to care. Why do I keep caring about them? Why can't I just hate them?'_

Well, if she couldn't start off hating them, she'd have to work her up to that.

She sighed, feeling the tingling in her wrist, feeling the accompanying sense of her mother.

She ignored it, not allowing a connection to form.

Her parents were not people she wanted to talk to right then.

 _'Can't she get the fucking hint?'_

It would be so much better if she had someone to share this with. Someone who felt as she did, someone who could understand what it was like.

The only possibility she could think of was Agrippa.

She didn't know him too well, what with the age gap between them, but she did know him well enough to recognize his lack of friends.

As far as she knew, he had no girlfriend.

 _'He's young, but he can grow. He can learn. And if he feels like me, then maybe I won't have to be alone. Maybe I won't have to break this conditioning. Maybe.'_

Maybe, maybe not.

Really, there was only one way to find out.

 _'I'll go to Hogwarts, talk to him. And if I truly am alone, then alone I'll be. Then they'll see. They'll all see.'_

She got up and began to get dressed, already planning out what she would say to him.

It would be nice not to be alone. It would be nice not to be empty.

She could only hope that it wasn't really too late.

* * *

 _Augustus Rookwood_

"Fidelius experiment number three thousand one hundred and twenty-four," he said with a sigh, "date is the twelfth of May, two thousand and twenty-eight."

He paused for a moment, debating the benefits of simply ending this farce. It was beyond absurd, for a jumped up warrior like Potter to dare and order him around, to dare and give him commands as if he were an underling.

Where would the Empire be, without him? Without his experimentation, without the advances he and his team had made, where would they be?

Not in control, that's where. If not for his help, Severus would never have been able to manufacture his Muggle sterility potion, not without affecting wizards as well. Without his help, they would never have advanced their tracking of magical travel, would never have come up with the tracking spells cast on each and every Muggle.

Without him, the Dark Lord's desire for a method of space travel would have been left unfulfilled.

And now he was being forced away from his preferred area of research, threatened into continuing his experiments on something that he was all but certain was a dead end.

Because Potter couldn't do his job properly. Because Potter couldn't simply hunt down the rebels like he was supposed to, and now he, one of, if not the top magical theorist in the world, was forced away from the most exciting revelation in the last few hundred years.

And because Potter couldn't do his job properly, he would have to hide in his house like a coward. He'd been given one more day to experiment with the Fidelius, and then he would have to be bait for a spy that Potter was simply too incompetent to catch.

Frankly, if he didn't enjoy his work so much or if he wasn't as vital a part in the Empire's running as he was, he would resign in protest.

Actually, if it wasn't for the fact that the Dark Lord might take Potter's side, he would do that anyway.

Infuriating as it was, he knew all too well that the Dark Lord, clearheaded in almost every other area, had a blind spot when it came to Potter.

He knew enough about Soul Magic to have his suspicions about why this was so, and he was also intelligent enough to know that attempting to confirm those suspicions would be the stupidest thing he could possibly do.

So, he simply obeyed Potter as he did the Dark Lord. Because, little more than a brutal fighter though Potter was, he was the Dark Lord's most favoured.

And so he was in the Ritual Chamber, performing what would no doubt prove to be more fruitless experiments, as opposed to the Mirror Room, where he would continue with understanding the nature of reality itself.

Absolutely galling. But he had no choice.

He sighed again, turning to the subject and continuing his monologue, allowing the dicta-quill to race along the parchment once more.

"Subject is, as usual, a traitor. Female, approximately forty-one years old, she has been kept in Azkaban for the last ten years, serving out a twenty-year sentence. She chose to take part in the experiment, with the understating that if she survives, she will be freed."

He focused on the woman in the middle of the circle.

"Subject is obviously in poor physical condition. As usual, if the experiment is successful, it will require repetition with someone of regular physical properties."

He walked over to the very edge of the circle.

The subject was strapped to the ground, her arms and legs spread wide, touching the Runes at the points of the circle.

Her body was an absolute disgrace.

Her bones all but pushed their way out her skin, as if begging for release. Her breasts were little more than nubs, and he knew her muscles were atrophied to the point that she could barely stand on her own.

The bloody Runes festooning her skin didn't make her look any more appealing, no matter how pretty the whorls and twists of their sublime shapes were.

 _'To think that something like this is human.'_

His lip curled in disgust.

"Assistant Underhill performed the actual Fidelius, placing one of the cabinets in this chamber under the Charm. Underhill is the Secret Keeper, and the subject alone was told the Secret."

He paused for a moment as the subject began to speak. She caught his eye and quickly fell silent.

She had been told, after all, that if she spoke, interrupted, or in any way interfered with the experiment, then if she somehow survived she would immediately be returned to Azkaban.

"Subject has been treated with the usual preliminary rituals and spells. See experiment two thousand four hundred and eleven for a detailed description. I will be performing an experimental variation of the Mcginty Curse. For further details on the variation and the Mcginty Curse itself, see the preliminary reports to this experiment and to experiment three thousand and ninety-two."

He glanced up at the clock for a moment.

"The time is now eight eleven, and I am beginning the final experiment of the day."

He started the Curse, chanting as he whirled in wand in a concentric circle, growing smaller and smaller.

As his wand reached a point and he began to wind it outwards, she started to scream.

He could just hear the dicta-quill frantically zooming across the page as it tried to record her pathetic mewlings.

Slowly, her body began to light up, glowing with an otherworldly greenish tinge.

He slashed the wand sharply down, jabbing it toward her and pulling back toward him before slashing it upward.

His chant changed, the words becoming harsher and more abrupt, short syllables that were barely more than growls.

Her screaming rose, a shrill wordless cry of absolute agony.

 _'If anything is going to happen with this variation,'_ he thought, _'it should be happening any moment now.'_

As he began to spin his wand in a concentric circle again, something did happen, shocking him so badly he almost forgot himself and ended the chant.

All the light that she had been glowing with vanished.

All of it except for one tiny jet, a speck of light that zipped around her skull and lit her head up from the inside.

 _'I've done it,'_ he thought, too shocked to do anything but continue, _'I've isolated the Secret! Good god, I've fucking isolated the Secret!'_

His instincts took over. He continued the chant, but rammed his wand toward the bit of light, concentrating with all his might on trapping it.

He could feel it fighting back, could feel its very nature denying his attempts on caging it in his will.

But he was not to be denied.

Pulling on reserves of strength he didn't even know he had, he _pushed_ on the light, grinding it like a bug under the thumb of his will.

 _'LEGILIMENS!'_

And he was in her mind, hearing Underhill's voice as he told her where the cabinet was.

He dropped his wand, shocked to the very core, not even noticing the sudden cessation of the subject's screams.

It felt like he was moving a tonne of bricks, as he slowly turned his head to the left corner of the room.

And he saw the cabinet there, a bog-standard filing cabinet.

But one that he'd been unable to see, not ten minutes ago. One that had been under the Fidelius, a Fidelius whose Secret he hadn't been told.

He fell to the floor, cackling madly.

It took him close to ten minutes to be able to regain his composure. Every time he tried, the thought: _'I've done it!'_ popped into his mind, setting off a fresh gale.

 _'Merlin,'_ he thought, wiping his face and getting to his feet, _'God! After all my moaning about Potter's orders, I've done it! I've fucking done it!'_

"Experiment," he said, voice shaky with joy, "was successful. It was a success! Ten years of work, and I've done it!"

He began to laugh again.

"I-subject appears to be dead. Just from a cursory glance, she appears to have suffered a coronary. I still need to check if the Fidelius is actually broken, or if I have somehow been given the Secret. And-and we need to repeat this experiment with an able-bodied subject, one who is hale in mind as well as body."

He looked at the clock, his smile threatening to tear his face in two.

"It is now eight forty-one," he said, "and I have just made history. Fidelius Experiment three thousand one hundred and twenty-four is successful. It is successful. We have a way to break through a Fidelius."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror._

Harry knew something was coming the moment his alternate walked into the room.

He was sitting with Hermione along with Ginny and Luna, trying to comfort her, saying soothing nonsense.

Never mind trying to comfort her, they were just trying to get her to talk.

She'd reverted back into the state she went into after Ron had been captured. She wasn't saying anything, was just sitting there, barely moving, and only responding to questions with a nod or shake of the head, if she even did that.

His alternate walked in, wearing a face that Harry had seen in the mirror far too many times.

He could recognize the rage. He could see through the cool facade, right through to the frustrated fury beneath.

And he knew instantly that his alternate wanted to do something absurdly dangerous.

"I need two of you," the other version of him called, stalking over to them.

Hermione moved her head, focusing on him.

"I said, I need two of-"

"You didn't say what you needed two of us for," Harry said, "I was waiting for more than just a demand."

His alternate drew up to their seats.

Up close, he looked worse than Harry had thought. Red-rimmed eyes, pained anger painted onto every line of his face.

"I'm going to destroy their Headquarters in New York. Hagrid said _his_ son is in charge there. So I need one of you to cover me, and one to shut down their escape routes."

After a moment, Harry realized he was gaping and shut his mouth.

"You're-what?" Ginny asked faintly.

"I'm going to destroy the Death Eater's New York Headquarters," he repeated, speaking as if it was a perfectly reasonable proposition, "so-"

"You do realize that it's enchanted extremely well?" Luna asked, sounding nothing but curious.

His alternate bared his teeth.

"There's no Ward that can stand up to Fiendfyre. Not for long."

"You can control Fiendfyre?" Harry asked, taken aback.

"Not for long. But I can make it big. They won't be able to shut it down, not as long as I'm there. And I'll be there until that place is fucking burning."

"Mate," he said, "I get that-"

He was grabbed, hands tightening around his collar and pulling him to his feet.

Ginny squawked, but Luna just watched with wide eyes.

And Hermione kept staring, saying nothing.

"Did you see her face?" The other him demanded, shaking him and spraying his face with spittle, "did you hear her? Did you fucking see what they did to her? What they did to him?"

"I saw, but-"

"BUT NOTHING! THEY DON'T GET TO DO THAT! I'M GOING TO BURN HIS SON TO ASH, SHOW HIM WHAT IT'S LIKE! "

"Snape said the whole family has Horcruxes," he managed, "you literally can't kill him."

"It took Volde-You-Know-Who thirteen years to rebuild a body," his alternate growled, "It might take him longer. And if his body isn't destroyed, well, I've seen what Fiendfyre burns look like. I've seen what it can do."

The memory of Crabbe popped into Harry's mind, of him screaming as his monstrous creations claimed him.

"I'm in."

Harry's head spun around so fast that his neck made a cracking sound.

Hermione was nodding, looking grim and ferocious.

"I'm in," she repeated. "I'll shut down any form of travel. They won't get out."

He felt the looks aimed him, the expectant glances.

 _'I don't have to do this. God, I don't even want to do this.'_

An image of Ron swam before his eyes, Ron with his leg half gone and the other half looking like it would be better off gone as well. Ron screaming, crying for them to stop, shouting that he wasn't allowed to go, that he would be punished.

Ron with the enormous cuts in his stomach, his innards just visible through them.

And not just Ron. All the people in this world, the people suffering under Voldemort's rule, the muggles who were raised to be slaves or experiments.

Back in his world, he hadn't fought Voldemort just because a prophecy had demanded it. Hell, half the time he hadn't even really thought he would win.

He'd fought Voldemort because it was the only thing he could do. He couldn't sit back while others fought, couldn't take it easy while people were being tortured.

He fought Voldemort because if he didn't, he wouldn't be him.

His alternate was staring at him expectantly, one foot tapping restlessly against the ground.

With a sigh, he said: "I'll cover you."

"No!"

His alternate whirled on Ginny as she stood, white-faced. She didn't seem to care, focusing only on him.

"No! What happened to not wanting to fight another war? What happened to wanting nothing other than to come home safely to your children?"

"Ginny," he said, swallowing thickly, "I can't just-"

"Fuck that! You can! You don't-"

"If he wants to do-"

She focused her murderous gaze on his alternate for a second. "Shut up! This is between me and my husband!"

"You-"

"Stay out of this! Harry, you can't! What if they get you? What are you even going to accomplish? Revenge? We need to focus on getting home!"

"Which will be easier if they think-"

"I told you to shut up!" She shouted, a terribly shrill edge to her voice, "this isn't about you!"

"Ginny. Love, I have to do this. I can't just let them go without me. I can't just sit back, while they're doing it. I just can't."

 _'Even if I could just sit back, I can't just leave Hermione to go on her own. Not while she's in this state.'_

She seemed to hear the words he didn't say. With a quick glance at Hermione, she looked at him again.

"Please, Harry. Don't do this. You don't need to. Please."

"I-I think I do. I-"

"YOU DON'T!"

"Ginny," he said, taking her hand as his eyes started to tear up, "I don't want to fight a war, I don't. I meant it that I just want to go home. But while I'm here, I can't just ignore this. I can't, Ginny. I can't."

She was silent for a long moment, making him start to think that he'd convinced her, that it'd be ok.

Then she ripped her hand out of his and pulled away from him.

"Fine," Ginny said, a terrible sneer splitting her lips, "fine. Leave it to me to explain to our children why you didn't come back. Fine."

With those parting words, she stormed out of the room.

He sat back with a sigh, utter shame beginning to fill him.

"Come on, then," his alternate said, "let's go. Let's-"

"No."

"Luna, don't," His alternate said, obviously trying to keep his voice calm, and just as obviously failing. "Don't stop us, just-"

"You will not put the entire rebellion at risk by rushing recklessly after revenge. I won't allow it."

"Isn't the whole point of this thing to hurt them?" The other him snarled, "To show them that they're not all-powerful?"

"That is debatable," Luna said, "what is not debatable is the fact that we have rules, rules that have kept us relatively safe for decades. If you break those rules, you will not be accepted back here. You will be on your own."

"You-as if you've fucking done-"

"You forget," Luna said, her voice echoing with strength, "that it was one of our men who risked his life to rescue your wife. You forget that it has been us who have fed you, clothed you, taken you in and given you a place to hide. And you forget that your best chance of returning to your world is if you work with us."

In the ringing silence that followed, Harry's alternate seemed to deflate, shrinking in upon himself.

"You can still do it," Luna said, "but only if it is approved, and if you take all of the precautions that we demand. But if your whole reason for doing this is because you want to hurt someone, I will make sure it's not approved."

Luna stood and started walking out.

She stopped by Harry's alternate and stared at him for a long minute.

"I want you to listen to a story," she said quietly. "Once upon a time there was a girl. And when she was hiding in an empty classroom and crying, a boy came and comforted her. He told her nice things, told her things that gave her strength when she was being bullied."

Something about the way she was speaking had them all spellbound, none of them daring to interrupt.

"And later, she was being bullied again. And she couldn't stand up anymore. And he came and rescued her. And he took revenge for her, and hurt her tormentor. But he wasn't doing it to save her. He wasn't even doing it to take revenge, not really. He just wanted to hurt someone, and that gave him the opportunity."

Luna took a deep breath.

"That's what you could have been," she said, her eyes darting between Harry and his alternate, "So you had best make sure that you're not doing this just because you want to hurt someone. Because if you are, I won't allow it, regardless of what the others have to say."

* * *

 _Bellona Potter_

She stepped out of the swirling flames, dusting herself off automatically as she entered Snape's office.

Merlin, but people were easy. All she had to do was arrive at his house and tell him that she needed to discuss something with Livia, that she wanted to do it in person, and Snape had opened his Floo to her.

She'd been worried, actually, that her parents might have spoken to him about her. That they might have told him what she'd said.

It seemed that they hadn't. Either that, or Snape didn't care.

 _'You know he cares. He tried to help, remember? Back in fourth year? He spoke to you for hours and hours, swore not to tell your parents and everything. He cares.'_

"And a fat lot of good his caring did," she muttered, raising her wand and preparing to demolish his office.

But still. He had cared.

She lowered her wand, focused on her connection to Agrippa, and left the office, casting a Disillusionment Charm on herself as she went.

She could sense where he was immediately, could feel the pull to the third floor.

She'd been worried about that. From outside of Hogwarts, she could never get a good read on their locations. Something to do with all the enchantments on the castle.

Well, it seemed that when she was also in the castle there was no interference.

Of course, she had been Marked far younger than anyone else in the family. She'd had it for the majority of her life, had grown up with it, and was used to it instinctively in a way that no one else seemed to be.

No one else, for example, seemed to be able to stop others from sensing their location.

Of course, she was special. She'd started asking for the Mark when she was only five years old, and had actually gotten it when she was six.

Her parents had been worried that she wouldn't have been able to handle the pain, and yet they still gave it to her.

 _'Shows how much they care.'_

She ghosted through the corridors of Hogwarts, feeling a strange nostalgia with every recognized painting, with every suit of armour and tapestry.

Hogwarts was much prettier at night, once there weren't so many people around. The candles and tapers cast beautiful shadows, and everything was quiet, save for the sounds of distant conversation and footfalls.

Slowly, the tug of her connection to Agrippa led her to the outside of a classroom door.

As quietly as she could, she opened the door and snuck in.

He didn't notice her.

He was sitting at a desk, facing away from her, a quill and parchment before him.

And he was engrossed in conversation with the girl by his side.

She stood stock-still, shocked disappointment beginning to rise in her.

As she watched, he brushed a strand of hair out of her face, placing it behind her ear, talking all the while.

From the sound of things, they were doing Transfiguration homework together.

She didn't have to think hard to realize why they were in an empty classroom and not the library or a common room.

No, she didn't have to wonder, not after seeing his expression when he looked at her, not after seeing the loving care with which he'd moved her hair.

 _'He was meant to save me. He doesn't care, none of them do. He doesn't know what it feels like. He deserves to know.'_

Invisible, she stood there for what felt like hours, watching as they spoke and did their work.

Watching as their heads drew nearer, inch by inch.

Watching as they locked lips.

 _'HOW DARE HE! HE WAS MEANT TO UNDERSTAND ME!'_

She raised her wand, not bothering to keep the incantation non-verbal.

The girl's head exploded, blood and brains and bits of skull coating his face and splashing around the room.

For a fraction of a second, his expression didn't change.

Then he pulled back, terror and dismay crossing his face as he stared at the corpse.

"Ma-Mandy? What the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK?! MANDY? GOD, MANDY, WHAT-"

She removed the Disillusionment Charm, but he didn't even notice, too busy shouting at his girlfriend's body.

"Evening, Agrippa."

He spun around, and his tearful eyes widened when he saw her.

"Bella-Bella I need-I-"

He focused on the wand in her hand and went still, mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

"Did you love her?"

And how adorable, he was crying, the tears making streaks in the gore.

 _'I'll bet he never cried for me.'_

"Bella, you-you-why? Why did-"

"Did you love her?"

He went for his wand.

Of course, she was quicker.

She disarmed him, and all he could do was stand there like an idiot, staring at her and weeping for the stupid thing she'd ended.

"Wh-why? Why, Bellona? Why'd you-why'd you-why did you kill her?"

She smiled sweetly.

"So that you can know what it feels like. So that all of you can know what it feels like."

She raised her wand again.

 _'Come on. Do it. One word. Show him what it's like to feel pain. You've done it thousands of times before. Crucio, that's all. Do it.'_

She couldn't. Her wand shook as she tried, but nothing shot out the end.

"Stupefy!"

He fell, knocking over the girl's body on his way to the ground.

 _'Well, that didn't go as planned. Maybe things will be better with Livia.'_

She left the room, focusing on the connection to her sister.

 _'I'll show them what it's like,'_ she thought, _'I'll show them all what it's like.'_

She began to laugh as she walked, laughing with tears rolling down her face.

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	10. 10--Interlude II

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Interlude II

* * *

 _13 May 2028_

 _Albus Severus Potter_

"Thank you for coming in, Professor," James said, handing Croaker a mug of tea, "we really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it. I did say I would keep you all informed of any updates. It's just easier for all of us to do it in smaller groups. Far less chaotic."

"You could say that again," Lily said.

Albus just nodded, grateful for Scorpius' reassuring presence beside him on the couch.

"Well, we believe we have discovered far more about the device,"

Albus closed his eyes.

' _That's it, then. If he had a way to bring them back, he'd have started with that. Fuck.'_

"We are quite certain that the magic powering it is of a…Darker nature, shall we say, than we had originally presumed. Blood Magic, to be precise."

"What kind of Blood Magic?" Scorpius asked.

"Of a sacrificial nature. We believe it requires a human sacrifice to activate it. Of course, we aren't exactly planning on testing it so we cannot be certain, but we have much reason to believe this."

"So in this world they went to," Lily asked, her voice far too shrill for his liking, "the people there, they-they killed someone? To make it work?"

"We believe so," Croaker said gravely.

"Who made this thing?" James asked, his tone perfectly matching the look of horror on his face. "Who would do something like that?"

Croaker sighed, shaking his head.

"We honestly have no idea. As I said the last time we all met, we believe that the device was created roughly around the same time as Stonehenge was erected. Britain at that time was not known for the sophistication of its mages. There were incredible witches and wizards at the time, but they were in Egypt, in Sumer, in Babylonia. They were not here. It could be that it was made in Egypt and then brought here. But we have no records of substantial relations between British and Egyptian wizards at that time."

"You said there was writing found with it," Albus asked, "doesn't that give you any hints?"

"Barely. The writing only confuses us further. It's in a dialect that was only spoken over two thousand years after the device was created. We think that at some point the device was found, in the ninth century or thereabouts. And once it was used, it was buried again, along with the writings."

"And you're still no closer to bringing them back?"

"We know how to activate it, not that we have any plans on doing so. We think that we will be able to tell if there's any further action taken, on the other side. We are left to wait for anything more than that."

"Do you know anything more about the other world? Anything at all?"

"We know that they have one of these devices there and that they are studying it in their Department of Mysteries."

"How can you be sure about that?" Albus asked.

Croaker sighed.

"I cannot go into too much detail, not with people who haven't taken our Department's oaths of secrecy. This isn't completely relevant to what you need to know."

"We swore all the oaths you wanted," Lily said indignantly, "everything to do with that world is relevant!"

"Just-the room in the Department where the device is studied. It's the room where we have always studied and experimented with the theories of alternate worlds. There are mirrors on the walls, and sometimes you can catch glimpses of other places. Since the Event, the mirrors have all been showing us the same place."

"Could you identify-"

"No," Croaker said, interrupting James. "We cannot see the people clearly enough to make out any features."

They all fell silent.

The information whirred through Albus' mind, thoughts of this other world, of people killing to open a pathway.

And he understood the problem.

"There's no other way to make it work," Albus asked desperately, the implications of that beginning to truly register in his mind. "No way other than to kill someone?"

"Not-not that we know of."

He heard Lily gasp as she realized, saw James' face go slack.

"How-how are they going to come back," he asked, "if that's the only way?"

Croaker just looked at him sadly.

* * *

 _James Ronald Remus Potter_

"As I said, we would keep you informed of any breakthroughs we have with the artefact. Unfortunately, we are still no closer to bringing your parents back, but we do feel we have a greater understanding of it."

James nodded, swallowing down the urge to shout.

"You haven't found another way to make it work?" Lily asked desperately.

Croaker shook his head sadly.

"We're still trying," he promised, "God only knows how much our understanding has increased. But no, we haven't yet discovered another way."

"What have you found out?" James asked, trying to make himself seem interested.

"Well, the theorists are very excited. You see, the artefact is forcing us to literally redefine concepts we believed to be set in stone."

Croaker paused for a moment, looking at them excitedly, no trace of his former solemnity evident.

"The artefact exists in multiple dimensions at once," he said, with the air of one imparting a life-changing secret. "We believe it is connected to the other versions of it throughout the multiverse. That they are all...limbs, so to say, of one object."

His eyes shot between James and Lily, his body sagging when they didn't show any enthusiasm.

"Somehow," he continued, far less energetically, "it was created in all of the different worlds at once. And that is something we believed to be impossible."

' _Wonderful. And this brings us closer to returning my parents, how exactly?'_

"When you say it exists in all of them..." Lily asked.

"I mean, that the artefact before us is not the entire thing. That we are only seeing the part of it that is in our dimension. It may not even have been created in our world. In fact, the balance of probability is that it wasn't."

"What's so important about that?"

Croaker looked at him like he was an idiot.

"It answers an enormous amount of the questions we had about the artefact. We were very bothered by the Runic languages it showed, for example. Some of the languages it displays are long since extinct, while others are relatively recent. How did someone create a device that uses Runes that didn't exist at the time of its creation? Well, if it is involved with its counterparts in other dimensions, in dimensions where the Runes used are not necessarily the same as ours, that question is answered."

James nodded, trying to make it look like he cared.

"We were also bothered by the timing of the artefact's creation. We believe it was created around the time that Stonehenge was erected, but British wizardry at that time was simply not advanced enough for such a feat. Furthermore, the writings we found with it are in a dialect that was only spoken almost three thousand years later. If, however, it wasn't actually created by someone from our world, these are not actually problems. It could very well be, that in the dimension where it was created, British wizards during the Bronze Age spoke Old English and were more advanced than we are, even now."

"But none of these discoveries are helping you get our parents back," Lily asked, "are they?"

Croaker sighed, giving Lily a pitying look.

"We've been trying to get permission to take the artefact to Stonehenge," he admitted. "We think that the Henge is...in the Department, we have a room created purely for the study of alternate worlds. We believe that Stonehenge is an ancient variation of this, one that is perhaps more attuned to the artefact than our structure."

"Could you just give us a straight answer?" Lily hissed, "you know, we've got to explain all of this to our Muggle grandparents, so if you could spare us all your technical lingo-"

"We think that in Stonehenge we might be able to activate it without a sacrifice," Croaker said quickly, "or at least, we'll be able to discover more about it."

"So when are you doing that?" James demanded.

Croaker sighed again.

"So far, all of our requests have been turned down due to safety concerns."

"So you've got nothing," Lily said dejectedly, slumping back in her chair, "nothing new on getting them back."

"I shouldn't be saying this," Croaker said with a shake of his head, "not when it's completely unconfirmed. But we may have the beginnings of something. It may turn out to be nothing at all, but it also might be a solution."

He paused for a moment, seeming to debate telling them.

"We have theorized that a person is inherently connected to their dimension. That their soul, their very being, is attuned to their world of origin. We are trying to see if we can possibly work with that, maybe use it to bring your parents and Professor Snape back, but so far, we have nothing. You must understand, without performing practical experiments, there is only so much we can do."

' _And unless you're happy to just murder people, there aren't very many practical experiments that you can do. But if the practical experiments would achieve so much...'_

He derailed that train of thought, forcing himself to pay attention to the conversation.

"Rest assured," Croaker said as he stood, "we are doing everything that we can. If anything, the artefact is only gaining more interest in scholarly fields as time passes. We will get to the bottom of this. We will find a way to bring them back."

' _I hope you do soon. Otherwise, I may have to take matters into my own hands.'_

* * *

 _The Demiguise._

He stroked Fawkes' back, enjoying the warmth on his fingers.

"Can you cry on demand?" He asked.

The answer popped directly into his mind, Fawkes not even opening his beak.

' _No. Only when the wound is in front of me. And only if I feel moved to do so. The emotion must be honest.'_

"Would Granger move you to cry for her?"

Fawkes' response was a while in coming. He just continued to stroke, the horrible images of her face floating before his eyes.

' _I think so,'_ Fawkes said reluctantly, ' _what was done to her was not right. Or to the other one. I cannot know until I am there, until I see again.'_

"Would you be willing to go?" He asked, "To see if you can help?"

' _And if you need me while I'm away?'_

"Didn't you once say that you could hear me no matter how far away you are?"

Fawkes had no retort to that.

"Why do I have to actually talk for you to hear me? Why can't you just read my mind?"

' _Because you don't know how to talk.'_

"Can you talk to other people? Or only to me?"

' _I can talk to anyone. But not everyone knows how to listen.'_

"So what does it take to hear you?"

' _It takes courage. Internal struggle. It requires overcoming yourself, becoming an admirable person from someone who wasn't. It takes me caring for you, watching as you changed before giving you the choice.'_

"So that first time that I heard you, you were already been watching me for a while?"

Fawkes turned his head, piercing him with his gimlet eyes.

' _For two years.'_

"Why me? Weren't there other people who could have worked? And how did you even know I was struggling?"

' _I could sense it. It was visible on you, from those with the ability to see. And I was watching many others. There were many who were too afraid or too weak to take the final step, to accept themselves for what they were, what they believed.'_

"And you saw me do that?"

' _After Jessica.'_

Jessica.

Even just hearing that name hurt.

The first Muggle he'd cried for.

He'd met her for the first time on his eighteenth birthday.

He'd been fresh out of Hogwarts then, the world looking exciting, full of opportunities.

At least, it should have. He'd been too full of befuddling thoughts, too confused about his feelings for society to actually make up his mind about his future.

His father had wanted him to join the Death Eaters, and though he'd hated the idea of being one of them, he hadn't had the courage to say no.

So he'd joined. He'd been unhappy, hating the things he'd had to do, and had begun slowly withdrawing into himself.

And his friends had noticed.

They'd met amongst themselves, trying to figure out a way to bring him out of himself.

So for his eighteenth, they'd all pitched in and bought him a night with Shafiq's most exclusive girl, convinced that a good shag was all he needed.

He'd gone, with no idea how dramatically she would change his life.

She hadn't been called Jessica then, at least, not that he knew.

No, Shafiq had named her Venus.

A stupid, clichéd name for a whore, but if there ever was a woman who suited it, it was her.

She was beautiful. Gorgeous almost beyond belief.

She was perfect.

Ironic, that a Muggle prostitute was probably the most beautiful woman alive.

She'd had olive skin, soft to the touch and smoother than water.

Her face had belied description.

And her body. God, her body.

Perfection.

Well, almost perfection.

He'd seen it as soon as he walked into her room, the look in her eyes. The total blankness, a complete lack of care. She'd had the eyes of a corpse, devoid of all feeling and emotions.

And he hadn't been able to get it up.

Something about the way she looked at him, the sense she had of being there purely in body. It cut him like a razor.

She'd been terrified, although she mostly managed not to show it.

She'd tried to coax him, terrified that if he told Selwyn he'd been dissatisfied, she'd lose whatever privileges her beauty had gained her.

She'd tried, but she hadn't succeeded.

At some point that night, he'd realized the source of her worries.

So he'd promised her, sworn to her that he wouldn't be giving anything other than an incredible report.

Then he'd asked her what her name had been, originally.

He could still remember the shock and confusion on her face.

She'd tried to get out of it, her anxiety beginning to show.

Eventually, though, he'd coaxed it out of her.

Her name had been Jessica, back before she was captured.

Over that long night, she'd ended up telling him a little about her life.

How she'd been born to a Muggle family who were in hiding, how her earliest memories were of them running as the wizards who'd protected them fought against soldiers.

How eventually they'd been caught.

She was lucky, she'd bitterly explained. Most muggles who were born free were executed when they were found, executed or used for experiments.

But when she'd been caught, at age ten, the soldiers had found her pretty enough to keep, to sell on for pleasure training.

He hadn't found all of that out the first time. No, it had taken most of the night to convince her that it wasn't a trick, that he was honestly interested in hearing the name she'd been born with.

By the end of that first night though, she was burning in him like a fever.

The first Muggle he'd ever spoken to. Really spoken to, not just ordered around.

He tried to ignore it, tried to convince himself that she was nothing.

He held out for almost two weeks before he found himself back in her room.

He could still remember the feeling he'd had as he entered, the feeling that he was setting something in motion. A part of him knew that he'd been standing on the edge of a precipice for years, since he'd seen that Muggle book. It was the part of him that had merrily pointed out everything that was wrong with the Empire, the part of him that saw clearly, that hadn't been blinded by all the lies he'd been fed his whole life.

He'd walked into her room that second time, and she'd been waiting. There'd been a single flash of recognition in her eyes before they were shuttered again.

"Tell me about yourself," he'd said, unable to fully remove the imperious tone of command from his voice.

She'd smirked at him, rubbing her hands on her chest as she spoke.

"What type of things do you like to hear?"

"I just want to know about you," he'd said, "who you are. Who Jessica is, not Venus."

She'd flinched then, and for a second the blankness in her eyes had been replaced with unalloyed hatred.

"I'm sure you don't want to hear about something like that," she'd said, as she stood and unclipped her bra, "maybe you'd prefer to see who I am?"

It'd been harder to think then. But he'd pushed through. With a feeling like he was teetering, about to fall off the cliff, he'd managed.

"I really do. I don't-I've never-"

"Don't worry about that. I know how to make your first time one that you'll never forget."

"I think everything I've been told about Muggles is wrong," he'd blurted out, "I think you're people too."

He'd started blushing then, filled with a boiling mixture of shame and terror.

He'd never said anything like before. He'd never dared verbalize it, had barely even dared to think it.

But once he'd started, he couldn't stop.

"I-you can think, all of you, and you had this whole-this whole crazy society, you invented all of these things! But I've always heard-my parents-I'm a fucking Death Eater, and I don't know what to think! I don't know what to believe anymore, there's nobody I can talk to, nobody I can trust, and-and-and I don't fucking know what to do anymore!"

She'd started crying then, weeping softly with a terrible look of confused fear on her beautiful face.

He'd left in a hurry, escaping the rising cloud of embarrassment and terror.

He'd lain awake for nights after that, berating himself for his stupidity. If anyone had somehow heard. If she told...

But as the weeks went by, it became clear that no one knew what he'd said to her. He received no midnight visits from his brothers-in-arms, had no strange comments aimed at him.

And she continued to plague his mind.

It took him three weeks before he worked up the courage to go back. And that time, when she saw him her eyes lost some of their blankness.

And ever so slowly, she had started to talk.

Ever so slowly, week by week and visit by visit, her personality began to come out, to him at least.

Oh, to everyone else she would be the same Muggle whore, just a pretty girl who was theirs for as long as their Galleons lasted.

To him, though, she was a person.

The more time he spent with her, the more she opened up, baring the personality she'd kept hidden for so long. The more time he spent with her, the less afraid he was of voicing the thoughts that hovered just below his conscious mind.

She started actually speaking to him, not like a terrified whore to her John, but like an actual person. Like a friend.

And just like she was willing to speak to him, to bare her soul to him, he found himself confiding in her. He told her about his family, about his friends, about the strange feelings he had for the wizarding world, the thoughts that bit into his mind and refused to let go

She told him how she'd been trained almost from the day that she was caught, how brothel owners had fought a bidding war over her. She told him about her younger brother, a dead boy named Isaac.

He told her about his work, how he'd wished he could just work for the Bank but that his father wouldn't hear of it. He told her how he hated himself, how he sometimes wished he could just ignore his burgeoning conscience, how he wished he could actually be as cruel and uncaring as everyone else.

She sang her mother's favourite song to him, told him how her father had been balding but still had a thick beard.

He cried in her arms, sobbed how he felt a traitor and knew that he couldn't stop his mind, that he was trapped and too weak and scared to actually fight against society, to actually stand against the Empire, against his family. He exposed his fears to her, told her how he could barely manage to pretend to be like everyone else, how he was living under constant fear that someone would somehow figure out how he truly felt.

And she showed him that somehow, even after spending her entire life either hiding or a slave, she still could laugh.

A Muggle girl. Muggles, who he'd always been told were subhuman, were magicless abominations, were worse than animals.

A Muggle demonstrated to him that even after everything she'd been through, somehow she still refused to be beaten down. Not totally.

Of course, having him treating her like a person helped. Having someone speak to her, listen to her, actually care about her.

It gave her something that she'd been missing for years.

After he finally made love to her, during the twelfth night he spent with her, she confessed that it was the first time she'd enjoyed it.

It was her who made him first seriously think about betraying the Empire. He hadn't thought of it exactly in those terms. He hadn't allowed himself to. Not then. Not while she was still alive.

After spending so much time with her, he found himself thinking extremely rebellious thoughts. Thoughts of breaking the Tracking Charm on her, of setting her free and running away with her.

He'd been terrified of those thoughts. It was one thing to think that the Empire's treatment of muggles was wrong. It was another thing entirely to act against it, to even think about acting against it.

Try as he might, he couldn't stop those thoughts. And every time that he visited her, every time he saw her eyes alight with life, they only increased.

Until he gave in, and actually started planning.

He'd planned to run away with her, to find the rebels and live out his days with them, with her by his side.

It didn't happen like his plans. Not at all.

They'd only just started talking about it. Only just started planning how they'd do it, how they'd make it work.

And then...and then one of the clients, some asshole came along.

He liked choking the girls. And he could afford the fine for killing one of them, so he had never been told off for it.

It just happened. One day he went in, excited to tell Jessica that he'd figured a way for her to get out, a way to break the tracking spells on her without it being picked up immediately.

He'd asked for her, and been told by a clerk with an unconvincing sad expression that she was unavailable, and that she wouldn't be available again.

Well, it had taken him pushing into Shafiq's office and showing the tattoo on his forearm for him to get anywhere. Shafiq told him the whole story, going so far as to tell him that it had been Vincent fucking Crabbe who'd done it.

He'd gone home that day, broken-hearted and furious.

And guilty, hating the fact that he was happy that at least their secret hadn't been discovered.

She was gone. Gone, and no one but him cared. Maybe a few of her customers would miss her, but they'd find another girl to fill the empty space she left soon enough.

She was just a Muggle, after all.

While he cried that day, his head buried in his pillow, Fawkes had appeared and spoken to him for the first time.

He'd never gone after Crabbe, as much as he'd wanted to. Fawkes had convinced him that the best revenge he could have would be to help the rebels, to help the people who wanted to fight against the entire Empire.

And it had been Fawkes who'd led him to Luna.

"Would you mind taking a letter to Luna? And going to see if Granger and Weasley move you to tears?"

' _I will do it.'_

He summoned a quill and parchment and set to writing.

He read the letter once he had finished, his quill scratching as he made a few corrections.

" _Luna. Fawkes will go and check on Granger and Weasley, see if maybe he can cry. Have the Healers and Potioneers ready. He can't simply cry on command, so if he does cry make the most of it._

 _A few things you need to know. Someone's being sent to the moon, to go and report to the Emperor. It's pretty likely that he'll come back once he finds out what's been going. So try to get your plans moving, because it will only get harder once he's here. I don't know exactly when they're going, but once they leave, it'll only take them a day and a half or so to get to him._

 _Director Potter's daughter has gone mad. Worse than usual. Apparently they had an argument the other day, and she's gone totally rogue, hiding who-knows-where._

 _But last night she went to Hogwarts. She killed her brother's girlfriend, and killed every girl in her sister's room except her sister and the Malfoy girl. The Malfoy girl was put under the Cruciatus._

 _No-one here really knows what's going on, or at least why she did it, if she ever has reasons for the things she does. As you can imagine, the Director's pretty damn distracted._

 _If you can do anything that would distract him further, now's the time. I might have a way of getting Rookwood. The more distracted everyone is, the better._

 _I'd like to go after Rookwood tonight, so do something today if you can._

 _There have been rumours flying around, lots of talk about the Fidelius. Nobody knows anything for sure, but there are too many whispers for it to be nothing. I don't have anything concrete, but there's something big happening. Some people are saying they've found a way to tear down the charm, others say that they've found a way for anyone who knows the Secret to talk, even if they're not the Secret Keeper. I honestly don't know, but combined with this amnesty thing, there's definitely something major. Be careful._

 _I'm sorry I couldn't get them out earlier._

 _The Demiguise."_

"Done."

Fawkes extended a talon, all but grabbing the parchment out of his hands.

"Give Luna the letter," he said, "and wait a little bit before going to Granger and Weasley, please. Let her have a chance to get everyone ready."

' _I will,'_ Fawkes said into his mind, ' _and if you call me, I will come.'_

A flash of golden light, and Fawkes was gone.

He sighed, setting aside the quill and parchment, and beginning to plan how exactly he was going to get Augustus Rookwood from his home.

 **AS ALWAYS: REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW**


	11. Chapter 9--Tyrannous and Strong

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/P.M ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Chapter 9–Tyrannous and strong.

"Rules are for children. This is war, and in war the only crime is to lose."-Joe Abercrombie—Last Argument of Kings

* * *

 _13 May 2028_

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters_

"I'm so fucking sorry, Draco. How is she?"

Draco did not look pleased. One of his eyes were rolling around nonstop, something he'd once told Harry he couldn't control when he was particularly stressed.

He looked like he was holding in his fury, and like he hadn't slept the night before.

 _'Which he probably didn't, idiot.'_

Well, Harry and Daphne hadn't slept either.

God, yesterday had looked like things might finally be taking an upturn. They'd found someone to impersonate Rookwood, found appropriate guards to watch over the real one. Rookwood had actually given Harry some good news for once.

Then last night had happened.

"Physically, she's fine," Draco said, his voice a whip, "emotionally, she's a fucking mess. It's not every day a girl gets to see most of her friends killed in front of her, or gets put under the fucking Cruciatus by someone who she used to trust!"

 _'Well, he's pissed.'_

"Why'd she do it? Why, Harry?"

He looked at the parchments on his desk, unwilling to meet Draco's eyes right then.

"We're not completely sure," he said, "barely have-"

"How long have we been friends, Harry?"

Harry looked up sharply. Both of Draco's eyes were focused on him, the left one jittering a bit but mostly still.

And Draco looked furious.

"Forty years or so."

"Forty fucking years. We married sisters, were each other's best man, have been godfathers for each other's kids. So I think you can spare me the bullshit and just tell me what the fuck is going on!"

Draco's voice hitched at the end, and a trembling hand rose to rub his eyes.

"Bella's gone...well, mad isn't quite the right word," Harry said abruptly, "more like psycho. I think-I think she's trying to hurt me and Daphne."

Draco just drummed his fingers in the desk, looking at Harry expectantly.

"You heard about what happened at the Wyvern," Harry said with a sigh, "right?"

"Bits and pieces."

"Well, I spoke to her about it, two days ago. We argued. She said that...that she doesn't feel anything. That she doesn't feel any emotion unless she's killing people."

He sighed again, a headache starting to pound in his left temple.

"And she blamed us. Said that we made her this way, that it's our fault. She's a fucking psychopath, Draco. And she wishes that she wasn't."

"What does she want?" Draco asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. "What's her aim?"

"I don't fucking know. I thought-I thought she wanted to kill us, to be honest."

God, but he was more tired than he could ever remember feeling before.

"She was saying how she wishes that she could hate us, that she could hurt us. But she says we conditioned her not to. From what she said, I thought she wanted to break that, to build up to attacking us."

"But?"

"But she told Agrippa that she wants to show us all what it feels like. I think that she wants to take away the people we care about."

"So she's going after the people you, Daphne, and your children care about?"

He nodded, wanting nothing more than to drop his head onto the cool wood of the desk.

"What are you doing about it?" Draco demanded. "Fucking hell, Harry, she could-"

"I know, Draco! I know! I've already assigned guards to Blaise and Snape and I'm giving you guys a few as well! I don't know what the fuck else I can do right now! I don't know where she is, I can't contact her, and for all I know she's coming for me! She fucking blames me for everything that's wrong with her!"

"She should!" Draco hissed, "God Harry, you really messed up. If you'd have just been a better par-"

"DON'T FUCKING TELL ME-"

"YOUR DAUGHTER ALMOST MURDERED MINE!"

Harry faltered, his shout catching in his throat.

Draco sneered. "You didn't hear that part, did you? Helena says that she actually started it! She said the first part, and she started the fucking movement. Then she just stopped, used the Cruciatus instead. This time she couldn't do it. Who says she'll hold herself back next time?"

For the first time in what felt like decades, he felt tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

"Damnit, Draco," he said, covering his face with his hands, his voice breaking as he spoke, "I fucked up, all right? I should have acted earlier. I should have done a lot of things, but I-"

"You fucked up," Draco said, with not an ounce of sympathy evident, "so now you've got to do whatever you can to fix it. What are your plans?"

"Wait till she shows up again," he said dejectedly, "catch her, and take her to St Mungo's."

"That's not good enough. What-"

"What the fuck do you expect me to do?" He said, raising his head and glaring at Draco, temper rising again, "it's not like we know where she is! We don't even fucking know what she wants, not really! So what can I do?"

"If she's trying to take away the people you care for," Draco snarled, "that means I and the rest of my family are at risk! Or haven't you thought about that? Does that not even matter to you?"

"Of course it matters! That's why I'm giving you guys guards! Fuck, Draco, there's just too much going on right now!"

"You should have-"Draco started, clamping his jaw shut in the middle with an obvious effort.

"Look," Draco said, jutting his chin out and clearly forcing himself to speak calmly, "I don't mean to stress you out more. I really don't. I get it, this is hitting you hard. But you need to appreciate that I'm worried about my family."

His head was really beginning to pound.

 _'Why now, of all times?'_

"I understand," he said. "I really do. I promise you, Draco, we're doing whatever we can. But until we hear from her or see her again, there's just nothing happening."

"And you can't contact her? Even with..." Draco said, jerking his head toward Harry's wrist.

"No. She won't put up the connection from her side. And somehow, she's made it so we can't use them to track her, don't fucking ask me how. The owls we send just come back looking confused still with their letters, and she won't answer our Patronus'."

"What are you doing? For the rest of your kids, I mean."

"Hector's staying put," Harry said, "but Damien and Samantha have moved in for the moment. Agrippa and Livia too. Daphne's with them now. I'd suggest getting Lucius and Teresa to move in with you guys, at least till this is sorted."

"And how long will that be?"

Harry threw his hands up.

"How the fuck am I meant to know? Especially with everything else going on, with the rebels and the spy and these fucking different versions of me!"

"Just-try not to get distracted, ok? I-if she's after us, Harry, our lives depend on you and your people."

"And I'm not treating that lightly. But there's a lot of things in the works right now that I can't discuss. Big things. The type of thing that'll lead to the end of the terrorists."

With a quirk of his eyebrow, Draco asked: "that announcement?"

Harry nodded.

It'd been published in the Prophet's morning edition. Twenty thousand Galleons, a total amnesty for all previous crimes, including treason, and a plot of land, for anyone who gave information leading to the capture of any wanted terrorist.

Harry doubted they'd have many people taking them up on their offer. But all they needed was to capture one. If they caught one terrorist who'd been told the Secret, the whole fucking Fidelius would collapse.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Draco said with a sigh.

"Me too."

"I don't-didn't mean to-to make you feel worse. I know this must be hellish. I'm just stressed. We had to force her to take some Dreamless Sleep this morning, and Tori and I didn't get to bed at all."

Harry nodded, his head thumping.

"I'll be in touch, Draco. We'll let you guys know as soon as it's over."

"God," Draco said, standing up, "I hope that's soon."

"Me too," Harry muttered.

As soon as the door closed behind Draco, he reached into the bottom drawer, pulling up the bottle of brandy he kept for emergencies.

He took a long swig from it, absentmindedly focusing on the raven on his wrist and thinking of Bellona.

After a few minutes, he gave up, dropping the bottle back into the drawer and leaning back with his eyes closed.

 _'Fucking hell. God, but Cyrus needs to get going already.'_

He urgently needed the Dark Lord to return to Earth. All of this was just too much to handle for him on his own. Even with Blaise's assistance, it was still far too much.

He couldn't just simply give the task of dealing with the rebels over to Blaise. And he sure as hell couldn't give dealing with Bellona over to anyone else.

 _'Nothing I can do, not until she comes out of wherever the fuck she's hiding. Can't do anything until then.'_

But he needed to do something. He wouldn't be able to keep a lid on what'd happened at Hogwarts. Not for long.

And if he didn't find someone to pin the blame on soon, this was going to become huge.

He could imagine few things that would inspire traitorous thoughts more than the knowledge that the second most powerful man in the Empire's daughter had happily murdered a bunch of children for no reason.

His wrist tingled.

He glanced at it, a sense of Daphne popping into his mind.

He concentrated, allowing the connection to form from his side.

 _'Hey, Daph, what's up?'_

 _'Finally got Agrippa to take some Dreamless Sleep, so at least he's out. Livia's still refusing. Damien and Samantha arrived, so I've got them settled in. Any news on your side?'_

 _'Nobody's seen or heard from her. I think we're just going to have to wait. But if this goes on for too long, it's going to fuck us over big time. Sprout can't keep it quiet forever, and the parents won't keep it a secret for long.'_

 _'No, they won't,'_ Daphne agreed, _'any chance we can blame terrorists?'_

 _'If we catch one of them, we'll get a confession. Until then, we can spread the rumour, but can't make any official announcements. Fuck, Daphne. This is just too much. Especially with everything else going on now.'_

 _'It is. But we don't have a choice.'_

 _'Did you speak to Hector?'_

 _'Yeah. He said, and I quote, if she wants to come for me, just let her try.'_

 _'Did you ask him,'_ Harry asked ' _about what-what she said?'_

 _'He said he didn't want to talk about it. And I don't blame him. Listen, Harry, I'm absolutely knackered. I need to go pass out for a few hours, now that Damien and Samantha are here. You should try and do the same.'_

He glanced at the pile of paperwork in front of him with a snort.

 _'Wish I could. Way too much to do today. Cyrus should hopefully be ready to leave tomorrow, so I need to write a report for Him.'_

 _'Are you going to tell Him about her?'_ Daphne asked, sounding nothing other than innocently curious.

 _'It's not like I have a choice. It'll only be worse if He comes back and finds out then, won't it?'_

 _'You're probably right. God, what a fucking mess this is all turning into.'_

 _'You're telling me. Go on, get some sleep, just keep me updated if anything changes.'_

 _'Will do. Love you.'_

 _'You too.'_

The connection ended.

He leaned back, rubbing his forehead, trying to massage away the headache.

Then, with a heartfelt sigh, he picked up his quill.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror_

"I'm sorry I yelled," Ginny whispered.

"You really don't need to-"

She rolled over, facing him in the near-darkness of their room.

"I do. It was out of line. I just-you've been in danger before, plenty of times. I just keep seeing what they did to-to R-Ron."

Her voice caught on the name, a sob tearing its way out of her.

"Shhh," he said, putting his arms around her and pulling her close. "Ginny, I get it. I really, really do. It terrifies me as well. But I can't sit back while they're going. I can't, love."

"Another aspect of your saving people thing?" She asked, bitterness lacing her words.

"I guess. It's-it's the same reason I joined the Aurors. I can't ignore this type of thing."

"No," she said. "You can't. Not if you want to stay being you. But I was hoping that-after Luna told me what she said, that they wouldn't let you do it. That I wouldn't have to wait again, wondering if you'll make it back this time or not."

"If it really does frighten you so much, I won't go," he said. "I'll tell them to take one of the fighters from here."

"No. It frightens me, but not enough that I can't think straight. Not after I had time to cool down. Luna says it'll help, that it'll make things easier for the spy. Someone needs to do it."

She turned her face to him, her eyes barely visible in the early morning gloom.

He could just make out the teardrops hanging on her eyelashes, could just see the intenseness of her gaze.

"As much as I hate it, it's the best thing. Hermione's not in her right mind, and neither is that other version of you. I-I don't want to think about what will happen if it's just the two of them. They need someone there who can think clearly, who'll pull them out if it gets too much. And you're the best candidate."

She sighed. "Unfortunately."

They lay together for a while, no words being spoken, no words needing to be said.

Slowly, the room began to light up, the charmed lights doing their work and imitating the dawn.

"Promise me," Ginny said, pulling Harry's eyes back to her, "that you'll come back."

"I-"

She had that stubborn, fiery look, the one which always managed to set his heart aflutter, the one which meant that she wanted something and was going to get it.

"Promise me that you'll come back," she repeated, "no matter what. Even-even if you have to come back alone. Even then, you come back. Promise me, Harry."

"Ginny, I-"

Her eyes didn't move from his, only continued to stare, seeming to gain heat.

"I promise," he said, the words tasting like ash.

* * *

 _Severus_

He examined the vials critically, holding them with the care he would show to the elixir of life.

Which they contained, in a way.

Phoenix tears. One of the rarest potions ingredients in existence.

Ever since he'd first started experimenting with potions, he'd wondered if he'd ever get the chance to use them.

He'd begged Albus for years, pleaded with him to make his pet cry.

Albus had refused every time, saying that Phoenixes would only cry if there was a devastatingly injured person before them, one they felt moved to save.

So, of course, he'd threatened to maim himself.

"I'm afraid that would achieve nothing," Albus had said, "other than your untimely death. They don't cry for a mere injury. Phoenixes have a highly rigid sense of right and wrong. They must feel offended, feel that a crime has been committed, for their tears to be imbued with power."

He'd then moved on to threatening Albus' students, if only half-heartedly.

"Fawkes would see right through that. He certainly wouldn't give you what you so desire."

Eventually, he'd left it, grinding his teeth and assigning detentions once he'd heard that the idiotic bird had wasted its tears on Potter.

Light hit the vial, refracting off into a brilliant rainbow.

He knew that if he somehow survived this mess, this would be a moment he'd never forget.

Unfortunately, there wasn't enough for him to experiment with. Even worse, he wouldn't be able to keep the tears too long.

It was part of the reason that Phoenix Tears were so rare. Approximately twelve hours after being shed, they became magically inert, as whatever emotional magic powered their incredible healing ability vanished. At least potions made with them during that time were not affected.

"Pr-Professor?" His assistant whispered. "Shouldn't you be adding it now?"

He glanced down at the simmering liquid in the pure gold cauldron.

"It's not ready," he said. "Keep on stirring as I told you, six clockwise, the seventh counter-clockwise."

"The book says-"

His hand tightened around the vial as he turned his sneer on Gregor Parman.

"Are you going to listen to the book, or to me?"

It seemed in this universe Parman was as spineless as in his own.

"Y-you, sir."

"Good. Keep stirring. At my order and no sooner will you stop."

Parman bent back over the cauldron.

In this world, as in Severus' own, Parman was an adequate Potioneer. Not brilliant, barely even exceptional, but adequate. Just good enough to be an assistant.

He glanced around the room, making sure the rest of the potions were going according to plan.

As he watched, one of them began to throw up bright multi-coloured sparks.

"Deal with the nightmare cure," he ordered, making Parman jerk and almost drop the spoon, "I will finish this one."

He took the silver spoon from Parman, watching the potion closely as he stirred it.

It was incredibly fortunate, how well-stocked this potions lab was. Almost as well as his own back home.

He wondered if he'd ever get the chance to use his potions lab again, to sit in the Headmaster's chair, to-

 _'Don't think about that.'_

He closed his mind, shutting off all of his thoughts, simply watching the potion and stirring.

His hand moved automatically, his eyes tracking each bubble that popped up on the turquoise surface.

An oily sheen began to form on the potion.

His thumb shot into motion, uncorking the vial even as his hand shot toward the cauldron.

The Phoenix Tears made a hissing noise as they dropped in, the potion seeming to thicken.

It flashed gold.

"It's ready! Bring the bottles!"

He continued to stir as Parman ran to do his bidding, stretched out a hand to accept the bottles while he sniffed the smoke into his nostrils.

It smelled like Fawkes' song sounded. It filled him with peace, with hope, with strength.

Just the smell of this potion washed away his fatigue, cleansed him from his worries.

"Tell them," he said, as he decanted the potion, "that they should use it on Weasley's torso and legs, and on Hermione's face. That's where it will do the most benefit."

"Are you not-not going to come, sir? To see it work?"

There was no reason to do that. He knew it would work, he'd made it.

There was no reason to torment himself with the broken visage of one of the few people he truly cared for.

"No. There still are enough Tears for me to try something else. But go, now. And don't dawdle."

"I-I won't, sir."

Parman left, returning Severus to his blessed solitude.

He held up the vial, looking at the last few Tears left.

"A modified Draught of Peace, perhaps?" He murmured. "Yes, that could work."

Even with his brilliance, even with Phoenix Tears, there was only so much he could do for the effects of such brutally terrible magic. Weasley's leg, for example, could not be grown back.

But maybe he could do something for the anxiety, for the terrible fear and helplessness they'd no doubt been infected with.

 _'Maybe I can save some for myself.'_

He chuckled mirthlessly as he began to work.

If he somehow survived this, he had a feeling that he would be brewing copious amounts of Draught of Peace for years to come.

* * *

 _Bellona Potter_

She lay back on the bed, barely able to control her joy.

It'd been almost twenty-four hours, and still, she felt _alive._

Vibrancy thrummed through her, for once keeping the void within at bay.

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that it could be like this.

God, if she had, she'd have done this years ago.

It felt like somehow, in bringing pain to her family, she was bringing herself peace.

Like she was stealing their happiness.

She giggled, stroking her wand restlessly.

The only question now was where to go next.

Samantha would be perfect. As much as Bella had enjoyed it, she didn't think she was quite ready to go for one of her true siblings yet.

Samantha, though, she thought she could.

Samantha had made Horcruxes. At least one. That much was obvious to anyone with eyes.

In a way, that made it easier. She wasn't sure if she would be able to actually kill the bitch, if she'd be able to go through with it or if she'd choke like she had with Helena.

Still, she could think of so many things to do, even without killing Samantha.

In fact, given Samantha's pregnancy, it could only be so much better if she left the bitch alive.

She focused on her tattooed wrist, thinking of Samantha and bringing her location to mind.

A minute later she bolted upright, a snarl twisting her lips.

That stupid bitch was hiding in her house!

Damien was there too, and so were her mother, Livia, and Agrippa.

All of them, sitting there and waiting for her, doubtless surrounded by guards.

She screamed, slashing her wand and sending a purple jet of light into the wall of her hut.

She couldn't attack there. It would be far too dumb for her to walk into a neatly laid trap.

She started pacing furiously, her wand twitching, begging to be used.

How dare they take what she wanted?

"They-they dare," she muttered, "they don't deserve-I'll show them, I'll take it all!"

Slowly, her footsteps stopped. She dropped back onto the bed, thinking hard.

Attacking Samantha, or even Damien, was out of the question. She couldn't go back to her home, not if she wanted to stay free.

Which left Hector, in New York.

It wouldn't be easy. Not at all.

She would barely be able to get into his building.

 _'But still, it's something. And if I hurt his men, that'll hurt him. Oh, that'll hurt him all right.'_

She stood up, starting to giggle again.

 _'Maybe I'll somehow be able to make him give me what he should have years ago.'_

* * *

 _Luna Lovegood_

"We've got a problem," Alaloke said, beckoning to Luna, "please join us. You too, Rolf."

She nodded at Ginny, trying to express the depths of her fondness with a gesture, and followed the Sasquatch, her anxiety levels rising sharply.

"Alaloke," she began, "What's-"

"Not here," He said curtly, "not where we can be overheard."

Her hand found Rolf's, true fear beginning to bubble up, terrible scenario after terrible scenario flashing through her mind.

Their footfalls echoed as they walked through the mountain, deep in the hidden caverns where there was barely any light.

Eventually, as the unknown terror was threatening to suffocate her, they arrived.

The guards stood aside as they pulled open the door, and they entered the cavern.

It seemed they were the last. Both councils were already seated, awaiting them.

"What's going on?" She asked, fighting to keep her voice even.

"A disaster," Alaloke said, taking his seat beside Hagrid, "we suspect that one of our operatives has turned traitor."

Her blood turned to ice, her limbs stiffening as she settled into a seat.

"Who?" Rolf demanded, "How do you know?"

"A witch by the name of Heather Crane. A resident of Toronto. She's been helping us for the past four years, giving us supplies and information, helping lead interested parties to us. But she's totally dropped off the map today."

"The amnesty," Luna murmured, "that's exactly the type of person they were targeting. But why would she betray us? If she's been helping for so long, she must agree with us."

"She's been more reticent about helping us, the last year or so," Alaloke rumbled, "ever since she had a child. Far more nervous. Our other operatives reported her mentioning her fears to them. We offered her a few chances to get out, for us to wipe her memory of all her dealings with us. She refused."

"You should have done it anyway," Hestia said, "If she appeared even the slightest bit of a threat, you should-"

"The purpose of this meeting is not to apportion blame, Hestia," Amanda said sharply, "and I'm certain there was a perfectly good reason why she wasn't Obliviated."

"We had made up our minds to do it anyway," Alaloke explained, "But that was recent. What with everything that's occurred the last week or so, it got pushed aside. And I fear that will bite us."

"You're certain she turned?" Luna asked.

"Certain enough. As soon as he heard the news, one of our operatives went to check in on her. It was him, actually, that made us think about forcibly Obliviating her. He's the closest to her of them all, and she's told him in the past how frightened doing this makes her. He went to her home, her work, and her husband's work, but could find none of them. We've been trying to contact her since, as have all our operatives, but so far, we have nothing."

"Only been a day," Hagrid said, "no' really long enough to be sure."

"She knows the rules," Serena the Veela said, "check in every day, or we assume something has happened. This is the first time she's ever missed a day. Too much of a coincidence for my liking."

"Jus' wouldn't think it of her," Hagrid said sadly, "she's always been so sweet, and-"

"We assume that she's turned," Alaloke said, "because if she has and we do not act, we will suffer."

"She knows the Secret," Luna asked, dread filling her, "doesn't she?"

Alaloke nodded, while Hagrid hung his head.

"If, as your spy says, they have a way of breaking through the Fidelius, they will certainly come. We need to prepare for that."

"What about your operatives?" Tarquin asked, "The ones she knows about?"

"They're already making their way here," Alaloke said, "our real problem lies with what we do next. Healer Silverthorne, please."

The Healer stood up, coughing into his fist as he did.

"The Phoenix Tears have been a major assistance," he said, "I don't think I've ever seen healing happen so quickly. Still, we believe that the patients should not be woken up until tomorrow morning at the earliest. I cannot say whether they will be able to travel immediately upon their return to consciousness. If I had to guess, I would say the earliest they could safely travel is tomorrow night. We need to monitor them before allowing such a strenuous activity."

"They cannot travel while unconscious?"

Silverthorne shook his head, looking grim. "No. God, it's practically miraculous that they're in as good condition as they are. If it wasn't such an emergency, I would want to keep them here for at least a week, maybe even longer."

"So we leave them here," Agrod said with a shrug, "we move out today, cautiously check in-"

"You can't be serious," Silverthorne said, looking as dismayed as Luna felt, "leave them to-"

"Maybe we should all sacrifice ourselves for them?" Agrod snarled, "Have a pointless, defiant last stand defending two invalids who-"

Everyone started shouting at that point.

Luna slumped in her chair, struck almost senseless with horror.

Leave Ron and Hermione? Leave them to the Death Eaters again?

 _'They're not my Ron and Hermione, I need to remember that. They're not!'_

But whether or not they were, it didn't change the fact that she would be leaving them again. Once again, she would be the one to escape, doomed to survive as her friends perished.

But Agrod was right, heart-breaking as it was. Ron and Hermione couldn't travel, and if the rest of them stayed, they'd be caught.

The knowledge threatened to destroy her, to crush her mind beneath its sorrow.

Two people weren't worth as much as several hundred.

Two people and the last fragments of her shattered sanity simply were not worth the deaths of hundreds of others.

Everyone was arguing, Rolf was standing and shouting, gesticulating wildly, while her mind was breaking.

"SILENCE!"

Alaloke's yell cut through the hubbub, taking the wind out of everyone's sails.

"We will not leave them," the Sasquatch said, shooting Agrod a dirty look, "we can't."

"We have to! If we-"

"WE CANNOT!"

As the echoes of Alaloke's shout died down, he took a deep breath.

"We cannot. Our goal is to travel to their worlds, is it not? We need the rest of them to help us. How likely will they be to do that, do you think, if we abandon their companions to a fate worse than death? We cannot leave them."

"So what is your plan?" Agrod asked, his hackles rising, "How do you intend to keep us all from capture?"

"We start evacuations immediately. Everyone who is not absolutely essential to the patients' health and safety must go to Peru. We keep a few Healers, whichever of the other travellers want to stay, and as many fighters as are willing. And the very instant that they are deemed ready to travel, we leave, activating the final defences."

"How long will you be able to hold out," Agrod growled, "when there are hundreds of the enemy in our caverns? How long will you be able to stand?"

"As long as necessary," Alaloke said calmly, "we are not even certain that they can break through the Fidelius. It is a possibility, and one we need to plan for, but it is not definite. We will stand as long as we can, and if we need to run, we take the patients with us."

"I will not be party to this foolishness," Alaloke said, "and none of my kinsmen will offer their lives for you."

"I would never have dreamed of asking you to do so."

Undeterred, Alaloke continued. "All of you who are stupid enough to remain, you had best ensure that you are not captured. If they truly can break through a Fidelius, your capture will hand them Peru."

Alaloke smiled. "The final defines should take care of that."

Luna gripped Rolf's hand tightly, a spark of hope lighting up inside her.

 _'I'll stay,'_ she decided, _'and at least this time, if need be, I won't outlive them.'_

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32_

After Luna's whole speech the day before, it had been quite a surprise when she'd approached him to tell him that their mission was approved.

He'd almost forgotten about it, in the excitement of Fawkes' arrival, the excitement of the Phoenix crying his healing tears.

The excitement of Healer Silverthorne telling him that what with Fawkes' tears, they thought they might be able to wake Hermione up the next day, instead of waiting almost a week.

Even with all that joy, his rage hadn't been quenched. It'd just been pushed aside, temporarily dislodged.

As soon as he'd seen Luna, it'd resurfaced.

At least their plan had been approved, if only because the spy had asked for a distraction.

 _'When I meet that man,'_ Harry had thought, _'I'm going to hug him.'_

The rebels had barely demanded anything from them; only that they Apparated to and from New York in as many jumps as they could, and that they each had one of those poison strips at the ready.

So, they'd waited and planned till mid-morning before beginning their journey.

And now they were practically there.

"One more," he whispered. "You guys ready?"

Hermione put her hand in his, saying nothing.

For a second, he had to fight the part of him that wanted to pretend that it was her, that it was his Hermione.

He fought it and won, and then had to fight the urge to rip his hand from hers.

"Yeah," his alternate said, taking his other hand. "Let's go."

He concentrated on the location he'd been told about and spun, pulling them with him as he Disapparated.

They arrived in what had once been Times Square, in the street block set aside for Apparation.

Enormous, hollow shells of buildings stared down at them, looming ominously as they walked.

Nobody paid them any attention. There weren't that many people on the streets, to be fair, but those that they passed barely gave them a glance.

They'd spent hours that morning, sitting and slowly applying spells to disguise their appearance. It'd been boring, monotonous work, but it was their best option since they lacked Polyjuice.

The landscape changed, as they drew closer to the Death Eater's headquarters. The destroyed Muggle buildings began to grow sparser, towering trees growing in their stead. The road became steadier, fewer potholes and tears evident in the tar.

They arrived, stopping a few hundred meters away from the Death Eaters' headquarters.

Bizarrely enough, it was a pretty building. It had a large garden surrounding it, brimming with lovely flowers and saplings. The building itself was three stories tall, made of ostentatious white marble.

If not for the enormous skull and snake decorating it, Harry wouldn't have believed this was the place.

There were even fewer people around here. The witches and wizards on the street seemed to walk faster as they passed the edifice, keeping their eyes straight ahead of them.

In the garden, a few Death Eaters stood, talking and smoking.

"Remember," he said, "we're here only until the building catches." He looked at his alternate. "Make sure they can't focus on me. Don't waste your time, use lethal spells only."

His alternate swallowed, pale-faced, and nodded.

"Herm-Hermione. None of them get out. Start."

She whipped out her wand, looking at the building with furious determination, and began to slash her wand through the air, muttering and incanting as she did.

He drew his wand, trying to clear his mind as much as possible, letting his rage guide him.

"Apparition's down and the doors are locked" Hermione muttered, "Portkeys and Floo will be too."

"They've noticed us," his alternate said.

The Death Eaters in front of the building were making their way toward them, waving as they came.

"When I start," he said, "attack them. Draw them off of me."

"Portkeys are gone."

"Hey," one of the Death Eaters called sounding cocky and overconfident, "what are you doing?"

Slowly, his alternate pulled away from him, leaving a good few meters between them.

"I said-"

"Floo's gone."

He slashed his wand, moving it through the complicated motions of the curse.

The Death Eater started shouting something, and he heard his alternate call out: "Sectumsempra!"

He finished the wand movement as the Death Eater fell, and as the others screamed, he shouted: "FIENDFYRE!"

It erupted from his wand, the monstrous flames taking shape as they formed.

A chimera, a manticore, a dragon, a basilisk.

He kept the fire coming, kept pushing the curse out and making it bigger.

The dragon took to the air with a ghastly roar, the earth shaking as his creatures charged, splashing against the side of the building.

The battle shifted to his mind.

He heard his alternate casting spells, saw the Death Eaters falling and running out the corner of his eye.

He couldn't concentrate on any of that. He was too busy, all of his mental powers consumed as he waged war on his creations, refusing to allow them the freedom they so desperately craved.

Sweat ran down his forehead, his wand beginning to feel warm.

Still, he poured more and more power into the curse, the existing monstrosities growing larger, more fiery creations joining them.

They _pulled_ against his will, straining at the leashes he'd imposed upon them, trying to rip free.

He doubled down, gripping his wand so hard his fingers hurt and the wood creaked, forcing them to do his bidding.

The enchantments on the building were still holding. The dragon roared again, spouting flames from its mouth as it scratched its claws against the building, making blueish-green lines appear in the air.

Hermione swore, her wand flashing on the edge of his vision.

"I CAN'T HOLD THE DOOR AGAINST THEM!" She shouted, "THEY'RE BREAKING THROUGH!"

He felt the enchantments on the structure weakening, his creatures gaining more of a foothold even as they tried to break out of his control.

The front doors exploded outward, marble and wood splinters flying, as Death Eaters poured out.

He hissed between clenched teeth, pushing on a segment of the Fiendfyre and directing it to target the approaching enemies.

Spellfire shot toward them, his alternate hastily throwing up a shield.

The Fiendfyre fell upon the Death Eaters, the stench of burning flesh mingling with the screams as the broke the air.

"HOW MUCH LONGER?"

He ignored his alternate, forcing the Fiendfyre to stay focused on its task. He could feel it, as the protective enchantments on the building slowly wore down.

He could feel every life his monsters claimed, the flesh and blood only spurring their hunger on, each death giving them new strength with which to fight his control.

The Death Eaters were fighting, trying to destroy the cursed flames, trying to wrestle control of his monsters away from him.

He stopped creating more Fiendfyre, putting all of his mind into the task of maintaining that which already was there.

And all hell broke loose.

"HOW DARE YOU?!"

The ground beneath his feet roiled, forcing him to jump.

As he landed, his alternate flew past him, his left arm bent at a terrible angle.

The shriek came again.

"HOW DARE YOU?! HE'S MEANT TO BE MINE!"

He turned to the source, barely able to keep control of the Fiendfyre.

He caught a glimpse of the woman.

She was just a bit shorter than him, with shoulder-length jet-black hair.

Her eyes were blood red, seeming to shine.

Her face looked strange, as if he was seeing a photograph taken of her while she moved.

But somehow, there was something hauntingly entrancing about her. Something familiar.

 _'It's the daughter! Fucking hell!'_

She slashed her wand through the air.

He barely managed to get a shield charm up, almost losing control of the Fiendfyre as he did.

Her curse was barely slowed down by his shield.

He was thrown backward, his ribs cracking as he landed roughly on the hard tar.

His concentration broke, the Fiendfyre tearing itself from his grasp.

He scrambled to his feet, picking up his wand and wheezing.

Hermione stood diagonally ahead of him, duelling the lunatic.

As he stood up, she twisted out of the way of a purple curse, only to be tossed into the air when the ground exploded an instant later.

He shot off an explosive curse, only for the witch to raise the earth into a pillar and stop it.

"I'LL KEEP YOU FOR YEARS", she shrieked, casting frantically at him "I'LL-"

A spell from the Death Eaters flew between them, trailing steam clouds.

She shot something at him, and as he blocked it she twisted, sending a mass of inky tendrils flying toward the oncoming Death Eaters.

"THEY DON'T GET TO INTERRUPT ME! YOU'RE MINE, YOU'RE-"

He sent a jet of flame at her, diving to the side the instant it cleared his wand and throwing up a barrier to her right. Before the flame even reached her, he attacked the ground to her left, making the road cave in.

"WE NEED TO GO," Hermione shouted, "THEY'RE GETTING CLOSER!"

His flame flew high, rising into the air above her and flowing on toward the Death Eaters. Some of their spells were starting to come through, their shouts dying down as they obviously defeated the Fiendfyre.

 _'If I can't kill the son, I'll take the daughter.'_

She sent more curses at him, more jets of light that made him jump and duck and frantically cast shield charms.

"LET'S GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" His alternate cried.

A male voice cut through the noise of the Death Eaters, easily heard over the shouts and screams and spellfire.

"I WANT THEM ALL ALIVE!"

"HARRY," Hermione shouted, "THEY'RE TRYING TO BLOCK APPARITION, I CANT HOLD THEM OFF FOR LONG!"

The woman he was fighting looked to the oncoming Death Eaters, clearly distracted for a moment.

Curses and spells flying all around him, he slashed his wand.

"AVADA-"

Her wand spun blindingly fast, her body seeming to blur with the speed of her turning.

He heard a sickening snap, felt a searing pain bite through him.

He glanced down as he turned to run, saw what she'd done.

Whatever the spell she'd cast, it'd cut straight through half of his hand.

His thumb and two fingers were gone, simply vanished along with half of his palm as if they'd never been.

His wand rolled out of the remaining part of his hand, his left hand flying with a Seeker's reflexes and just managing to catch it.

"NOW!" He shouted.

He heard the cracks of his alternate and Hermione's apparition, heard the crazy witch's furious screech as he spun.

In the instant before he Disapparated, he caught a last glimpse of the entire scene.

The Death Eaters were closing in, the witch ignoring them and waving her wand in his direction.

Bodies lay strewn in front of the building, smoke still rising from them.

The building still stood, although a large hole gaped in the side and all the marble had been blackened.

The empty space of Apparition claimed him, and as he spun, he thought: _'failure.'_

* * *

 _Bellona Potter_

She spun away from the empty air where he'd been, her wand flashing.

 _'I should go. There's too many of them.'_

She clenched her jaw, sending spell after spell at her brother's men.

A broom flew out the smoke, its rider beginning a curse.

She howled as she attacked, knocking him right off of the broom and into the crowd.

"BELLA, STOP!"

"GO FUCK YOURSELF!" She shouted, waving her wand, uprooting a huge pillar of earth and sending it flying at the army.

It crashed, throwing wizards and witches aside like bowling pins, making her ears ring with the screams of those she'd crushed.

Curses filled the air, the wind of their passing blowing her hair back as they zipped past her.

Something hit her leg, making it weak enough that she nearly fell.

A cutting curse hit her, slicing a gash in her cheek.

She started flinging Killing Curses with wild abandon, shooting them off as rapidly as she could, not bothering to see that they struck their mark.

"I WANT HER ALIVE!"

"I WANTED YOU," she screamed, tears rolling down her face. Something hit her in the arm, making it numb and sluggish.

"BUT YOU WERE TOO-"

She was thrown back, just managing to land on her feet, her wand flying from her hand.

Before she could even try for her spare, her hands shot behind her, heavy manacles appearing and binding them.

She dropped to her knees, her head sagging.

 _'It's over. It's over. It's over. Maybe he'll kill me. He can't kill me, but I wish that he would.'_

Slowly, they approached. The screams were starting to die down, the mad adrenaline of battle dissipating.

A shadow fell over her.

She looked up to see Hector limping forward.

He'd obviously been close to the Fiendfyre. Not close enough to kill him, but enough that his clothes were burnt strips hanging from him, the skin that was visible through the patches all blackened and sloughing.

She looked him in the eyes, smiling as widely as she could force herself to when everything was lost.

"Cruc-"

Hector's hand shot out, his wand twitching.

There was a thump as someone fell.

"Still protecting me?"

He didn't look away from her, just kept staring with an utterly unreadable expression.

"You're going to London," he said, "I'm taking you back."

"Sir!"

He turned to the man beside him, a snarl splitting his lips.

"What?"

"After what she did? We're just letting her go?"

"No. We're taking her to custody in London."

The men around muttered mutinously, shuffling their feet. One of them spat in her direction.

"Sir, I know she's your sister, but-after-look how many died! You can't-"

Hector's wand rose in a blur, the tip jabbing the one stupid enough to speak in the forehead.

"She's going to London. That's all there is to it. If you want, you can argue with my father. But if anyone else has anything to say, I'll fucking execute them. Understood?"

None of them argued with that.

"Taking me back to mummy and daddy?" She asked, "Not man enough to deal with me yourself, are you?"

His wand moved, and everything went dark.

* * *

 _The Demiguise_

He exhaled shakily as he looked around.

The inside of Rookwood's house was much as he would have imagined it; with bookshelves cramming the walls and thick reams of parchment covering every surface.

He walked over to the table in the centre of the room and began to leaf through what Rookwood had been writing.

His breath caught in his throat, and he hastily reread the beginning.

 _"Experiment 3124, or, as I have begun to call it, the Frustorius Manoeuvre. So far, this is the only known way of breaking the safety of a Fidelius Charm. It requires a subject who has been told the Secret, but I believe that with further experimentation, we will be able to do away with that. First, the subject must..."_

He stopped reading, feeling a dull pit in his belly. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

He glanced at the other parchments. The rest of them seemed to about the artefact which had brought the people from other dimensions.

"Fawkes," he whispered.

In an instant, Fawkes was there, making no sound with his appearance.

 _'There are two guards in the garden. They did not see me. Is all well here?'_

"Well enough," he whispered, tapping the reams of parchment with his wand and shrinking them.

"I just wanted to check. C'mon, let's go."

He tossed the parchments, now the size of one of his fingers, into his pocket, and with Fawkes flying just ahead of him, continued through the house.

Fawkes' light cast odd shadows on the wall as he slowly made his way to Rookwood's bedroom, treading as lightly as he could.

 _'I hope the bastard's sleeping.'_

He assumed that he was. Most people were, at three in the morning.

 _'Don't. In fact, assume he's awake.'_

He nodded to himself, making his way from the landing.

He stopped outside a door, the sound of soft snoring wafting its way through.

"Ok," he whispered, feeling jittery and nervous, "let's go."

Ever so gently, he pushed the door open, sliding into the room as soon as the opening was big enough, with Fawkes following.

Rookwood was fast asleep, a ray of moonlight shining onto his face through a crack in the curtains.

He raised his wand, about to stun the man.

A lot of things happened at once.

Fawkes squawked loudly, making his head shoot around.

Something hit him in the back, and all his limbs went rigid.

Fawkes flew toward him, and a jet of green light shot toward the bird from nowhere.

Fawkes vanished, the Killing curse hitting the wall and erupting into flames which were hurriedly doused.

He heard the Phoenix's voice in his mind, sounding as if from a great distance.

 _'I will come back. Call me when they least expect it.'_

And he saw the invisibility cloak sliding off of someone, someone who'd been standing unseen next to the door.

"What-what's going on?" Rookwood asked sleepily.

A moment later, the room was filled with light.

"Holy shit, Frank!" A familiar voice said, full of excitement, "We got him! Fucking hell, we got him."

He saw a wide smile split Frank's lips as he approached, saw Robert come into his field of vision.

"Well, Frank. Guess it's up to you to do the honours. Let's see who it is."

 _'Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.'_

Frank drew closer to him, anticipatory happiness building in his eyes.

 _'FAWKES!'_ He thought, unable to make his lips move, _'STUPID FUCKING BIRD! HELP ME! FUCKING HELP ME!'_

Frank pulled back his hood, waving his wand and dispelling the enchantment that had clouded the contents in darkness, baring his face.

Both Frank and Robert's faces fell, shocked and terrified dismay replacing the happiness.

"Well, gentleman," Rookwood said, drawing into his sight, "let's-"

The Unspeakable fell silent, his eyes widening as he took in the appearance of the man before him.

They stood that way for what felt like hours, the three of them staring at him, rage slowly growing in Frank's eyes.

"I'm going to contact the Director," Rookwood said finally, breaking the spell and turning his gaze on the other two, "you two-"

"CRUCIO!"

Pain suffused his every nerve, every inch of skin screaming in tormented agony. It blocked his thoughts, turned his mind to mush. This was pain like he'd never experienced, pain like he never even comprehended.

He could feel his limbs shaking, dimly realized that he had somehow fallen over, that the curse must have overpowered the Body-Bind and knocked him to the ground.

Some part of the Body-Bind was still working though.

Try as he might, he couldn't scream.

The curse was lifted.

He could hear Robert berating Frank, their voices sounding as if through water.

"Fucking idiot! The Director wants him whole!"

"FUCK THAT! ITS-"

"I KNOW! Just- just go with Chief Rookwood while he firecalls the Director, I'll check him."

Frank spat on his face before stalking out the room.

"Merlin's balls, Scorpius," Robert said, wearing an ugly expression, "isn't this a fine fucking mess?"

The Body-Bind prevented Scorpius from responding.

 _'As if I'd have anything to say anyway. Fuck. Fuck.'_

A terrible cold feeling was settling in on him, his hopes crashing down.

Robert waved his wand, vanishing Scorpius' clothes.

After suffering through the Cruciatus, lying naked on Rookwood's carpeted bedroom floor was a pleasure.

It was meant to be degrading, to make him feel his dignity slipping away as they checked him for explosives.

It'd been standard practice, ever since there'd been a spy in the Death Eaters, years before Scorpius was even born.

That spy had transfigured his clothes into explosives. That spy was the reason Scorpius had only one grandfather, why his brother's name was Lucius. And why his father had magical eyes.

"How the fuck could you do this to us?" Robert grunted, bending down and prying open Scorpius' mouth. "Fuck, Scorpius, I thought we were friends."

 _'We were. We would still be, if you weren't a fucking monster. Or if I actually was one too.'_

Robert stood up, shaking his head, his eyes suspiciously wet.

"What's your father gonna say, huh? Did you even think about that? Did you think about how your family will feel once you're executed? How we'll feel?"

He had. He'd thought about it a lot, over the years.

His father would pretend to be strong, at least in public. Maybe go so far as to disown him. At home, though, he'd be upset. He'd cry, in the privacy of his room. His mother...well, she'd be broken.

Lucius would act like he didn't care, but he'd be hurting inside. He'd never admit it, not where anyone else could hear him. He probably wouldn't even admit it to Teresa. A stickler for rules, Lucius was.

And Helena. It was Helena he felt the worst about. She looked up to him, thought the world of him. He'd always been able to relate to her better than Lucius had.

 _'Between this and what Bellona did to her, I won't be surprised if she loses it.'_

As for his friends, they'd get over it soon enough. It wouldn't long before they thought of him as the traitor, if at all.

But if his sacrifice could encourage any of them to follow his path, it'd be worth it.

 _'No sacrifice! I'm fucking getting out of here! I'm not going to die or go through re-education, I'm not!'_

He heard raised voices from the other side of the door, heard loud footsteps approaching.

His uncle walked into the room, looking livid.

Harry looked at him for a moment, hatred visible in his eyes that Scorpius had never seen aimed at him before.

If he could have, he'd have flinched just from Harry's expression.

Harry screamed, slashing his wand to his side.

A gout of pitch-black flames shot from it, spraying wall.

Breathing deeply, Harry ended the curse, the flames vanishing.

"You-you fucking-TRAITOR RAT!"

Harry's wand slashed, and Scorpius understood true agony.

Frank's attempt at the Cruciatus had been nothing more than a pale initiation of this.

This was torment, his only conscious thought of him hoping he would die, that it would end, that the terrible pain would stop.

After a lifetime, it did, his limbs stopping to shake as the Body-Bind took control again.

He was vaguely aware that he'd lost control of his bladder, barely noticed that he had a nosebleed.

Harry stood over him, trembling with fury.

"HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU DO THIS TO US?" He roared, letting a heavy boot fly, kicking Scorpius right in the jewels.

The force of the kick moved his body along the floor fast enough for the carpet to burn his bare back.

But that was a candle beside the bonfire of pain in his groin, in his weak and roiling stomach.

The world swam before his eyes, unconsciousness threatening to take him.

Harry kicked him again, breaking his nose and cutting open his cheek.

"Sir, he had-"

"Shut the fuck up."

"But-"Robert tried again, voice shaky, "he-"

"I'm barely keeping myself from tearing out his innards," Harry said, his voice a whip of tightly controlled rage. "I really don't want to hear anything right now."

"B-"

"Say one more word, and I'll cut your fucking tongue out."

Harry circled Scorpius, staring down at him with fires in his eyes.

Blood was dripping down Scorpius' face, pooling in his right eye and making everything look rose-tinted.

"You're gonna fucking tell us everything," Harry whispered, "and when we get all your friends from Canada tomorrow, they'd best corroborate all your stories. Don't fucking try to lie to us, Scorpius. Don't fucking try it."

Harry kicked him again, his boot crashing harshly into his side.

"How could you just do that to us? How?"

Another kick, making something in his arm crack.

Harry stood back, breathing heavily.

"I'm going to remove the Body-Bind," he said. "If you try anything, if you do anything besides what we tell you, I'll cut your fucking balls off."

Harry's wand waved, and Scorpius' muscles were free.

He coughed weakly, his limbs beginning to shake again.

"Stand up."

"F-F-Fawkes," he whispered, softly as he could, barely more than a breath.

"FUCKING STAND UP, TRAITOR!"

"F-Fawkes." He said, louder than before.

The Phoenix appeared, a talon grabbing hold of his shoulder the instant the bird arrived.

He heard Harry's frenzied shriek, saw a spell flying toward him.

And he was gone, disappearing in a flash of golden red light.

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	12. Chapter 10--Not in the Whirlwind

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Chapter 10-Not in the Whirlwind

"That wasn't any act of God. That was an act of pure human fuckery."—Stephen King-The Stand

* * *

 _14 May 2028_

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32_

"We're going to need you to remain calm," Healer Silverthorne said, "as it is, waking up will be a very disconcerting experience for her. If you start showering her with affection immediately, it will only make that worse. Just let her wake up and adjust to the changes."

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

He flexed his hand compulsively, making a fist and then slowly releasing it.

His new fingers and thumb didn't respond as well as he was used to. There was an awkward clumsiness to them, the prosthetic bones feeling heavy and sluggish.

They were still better than nothing, though.

They'd limit him in a fight, until he got more of a handle on them, but they'd be less of a limit than if he tried to do battle without being able to hold his wand properly.

"She'll be fine though, won't she?" He asked, nervous tension twanging within him, "Once you've gotten her woken up properly? She'll be ready to leave by tonight?"

"I...think so," Silverthorne said hesitantly, "it's very difficult to say before she's actually awake, but based on our current diagnostics, it seems so. She will have to be ready to leave by tonight. The real question is whether the trip will damage her."

"If it does," he asked, "What type of damage are we talking?"

"Very difficult to say. A resurgence of the infections, perhaps."

"But-I thought with the Phoenix Tears we didn't-didn't have to worry about any of that?"

Silverthorne glanced toward the third bed in the room, a small smile playing at his lips.

"The Phoenix tears have done incredible work," he said "absolutely incredible. Her body, however, is still very weak. Her immune system was severely compromised, and some of the curses used on her have not been entirely eradicated. They've been quarantined, unable to cause further damage at the moment, but still need more time to be fully destroyed. Time, Mr. Potter, is one of the things that healing magic cannot imitate, not completely."

"And time's what we don't have," he muttered.

Silverthorne didn't say anything.

Harry breathed deeply, his hand flexing and releasing, the fingers straightening as much as they could before curling into a fist again.

"Well," he said, "it's not like we have any other choice, is it?"

"No. We don't."

He nodded, his eyes straying to her again.

"It's best if you give us some space while we awaken her," Silverthorne said. "We'll call you the instant you can come in."

"Yeah. I'll just-I'll wait."

Silverthorne gave Harry's shoulder a squeeze before calling a few other Healers to him.

They walked to Hermione's bed, the curtains closing around them, no sound coming out.

He strolled away, barely giving the closed curtains around Ron's bed a glance.

He headed straight for the third bed.

Its occupant was sitting up, tying his bootlaces and mumbling to himself.

Fawkes sat on the bedside table.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, making bird and man aim their attention at him.

"Scorpius, right?"

Scorpius nodded, his eyes narrowing.

 _'He looks far too much like Draco for my liking.'_

He did look almost exactly like Draco. His eyes were slightly darker, his chin slightly thicker, but the similarity was eerie.

The night before, Harry had almost attacked him when he'd arrived, naked, beaten, and bruised. It had been utter chaos when a nude Malfoy had suddenly appeared, with Fawkes holding him so tightly that there were indentations in his shoulder.

Everyone in the infirmary at the time had started shouting, a dozen voices melding in with one another to make a cacophony of bewildered fear.

Scorpius' Mark had stood out clearly, a stark contrast against his pale skin.

Harry had barely had time to consider the fact that Fawkes had brought him before he nearly attacked.

If not for the uselessness of Harry's new fingers, in fact, he would have attacked. He'd tried to, the instant that he recognized the face.

As he'd raised his wand, however, he'd lost his grip on it, and by the time he'd regained it, Luna was shouting about how he was the spy, how he was on their side.

It still didn't sit so well with him, having someone with Draco fucking Malfoy's face helping them. But he'd brought Hermione back.

Once he'd done that, Scorpius could have looked like Voldemort himself for all that Harry cared.

"I just-I wanted to thank you. I can't express how-how much I owe you. You got her out. I can never repay that."

Fawkes had his head cocked to one side, beady eyes focused intently on Harry.

"Hey, Fawkes," Harry said, stretching his hand out and rubbing it over the Phoenix.

"Don't mention it," Scorpius said stiffly, standing up. "It's the least I could do."

"If you come to my world, you'll never have to worry. About a place to stay, money, a job. That type of thing."

Scorpius' nostrils flared, a blush rising up his neck.

"I said don't mention it. It's nothing."

"It's not nothing! You-"

"Don't make me out to be some type of hero," Scorpius snarled, jerking back his left sleeve, "because I'm the farthest thing from it! You haven't a fucking clue! Just-just leave it, alright?"

Harry dragged his gaze from the Mark, meeting Scorpius' eyes. They were red-rimmed, full of haunted pain.

"You're not the only one who's had to do terrible things," he said quietly, "it doesn't change-"

Scorpius laughed harshly, a shrill sound tinted with madness.

"But you won, didn't you? In your world, whatever the fuck you did worked! Everything I've done over the last five years, it's all down to nothing!"

"It's not nothing," Harry said, Fawkes beginning to sing a soft, haunting tune in the background. "We're going to-"

"I didn't fucking get Rookwood! I didn't get any of his documents, I walked into a fucking trap, and now my own family would be more than happy to hand me in for re-education, if they wouldn't just kill me on sight!"

"We'll still get away," Harry said stubbornly, "we'll find a way. And you can have a life. Believe me, impossible as it seems, you can have a life."

"If you say so," Scorpius muttered, doubt infusing his words.

"I do. I-in my world, I did terrible things too. I-"

"Mr. Potter?" Silverthorne called, "you can come through now."

He pulled Scorpius into a tight hug.

"I get to talk to her," he whispered, "and that's all thanks to you. That makes up for anything you did, in my book."

Scorpius pushed him away, scowling.

"We'll speak," Harry promised, "once we're in Peru."

Scorpius just nodded curtly, as Harry ran to Hermione's side.

The Healers were standing around her, waving their wands here and there and talking amongst themselves.

And she was sitting, propped up against a pile of cushions.

His footsteps faltered, his heart pounding as he saw her.

The bandages had been cleared from her face.

She looked almost exactly like she always had.

Her nose was slightly larger than it had been, there were pale patches of skin on her forehead and cheeks, and small round scars dotted her face wherever those boils had stood.

He'd never seen a more beautiful sight.

Her eyes widened when she saw him, a hard glint hiding in the back.

Then she shook her head, tears falling from her eyes, and said his name.

"Ha-Harry?"

"It's me," he said, walking slowly up to her, "it's-it's me."

"It's really over," she said, the wonder in her voice lifting his heart, "I can't believe-I'm free. I'm free."

"You're free," He repeated fervently, "And they'll never get you again. And in a few days, we'll be home."

She flinched as he lowered his head toward hers, but she didn't move her head away

 _'Small victories.'_ he thought as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters_

"Draco, I really don't have time for this right now."

"Harry-"

Harry shuffled the parchments on his desk, putting the blueprints on top.

"I'm in the middle of preparing for one of the largest military manoeuvres since the end of the war," he said without looking up, forcing his frustration down, "I have less than an hour to finish my prep, so I really don't have the time to talk about a fucking traitor!"

"Please, Harry," Draco said, and the pleading in his voice made Harry pause, "just-for me. Five minutes. Please, mate."

He looked up, biting down a furious retort.

Draco sat there, his eyes twitching restlessly, sorrow carved into his face.

 _'After he had the nerve to lecture me on how I raised my kids! Fuck him!'_

"Draco," He said, the words coming out harder than he'd have liked. "You know what he did. Fucking hell, how many people died because of him? He betrayed us. He gave information to terrorists, freed prisoners, and tried to kidnap Rookwood. What the fuck do you expect me to do?"

"He's my son. My-"

"SO FUCKING WHAT? YOU SURE AS SHIT SOUNDED DIFFERENT YESTERDAY!"

"I didn't-," Draco said, looking down, "I didn't understand. I just-I'm sorry."

Harry stood, beginning to pace.

He made a fist, resolutely not letting his hand go to his wand.

"Is there anything-"

"What do you expect me to do?" He demanded. "Just let him go? I can't do that, Draco."

"He's my son," Draco repeated, his voice choked, "Yes, he's a traitor. But he's my son. You didn't execute Bella. You found a way around that. There must be something."

"He's a traitor. With Bella, we've put the word out that she had a breakdown. And she still isn't free. I can't tell people that he was acting under the influence of insanity. Not when he's been doing it for a while."

"What if-if you blamed the Phoenix?"

"It's a fucking bird, how the fuck do you expect us to swing that?"

"A bird that was owned by Albus Dumbledore," Draco said, tapping out a nervous tattoo with his cane. "It could have...poisoned his mind, or something. It's not-"

"You just don't want it to be your fault," he snarled, holding his hand stiffly against his thigh, "because you should have fucking realized that something was up! How did you-"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

"You should have seen something. It shouldn't have just slipped by you." Draco fell almost silent, soft sob-like sounds escaping him and mingling with the tapping of his cane and Harry's heavy breathing.

"I should have, alright?" Draco said, "There were times when I thought he seemed-"

His words seemed to fail him at that point.

Harry dropped into his chair, pity warring with the rage within him.

"It's not so easy is it," he asked quietly, "when you're the one who fucked up?"

Draco just shook his head.

Harry sighed, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Maybe I could get him into re-education," he said, "maybe."

"And how well does that work?" Draco asked bitterly, "What's it, seventy percent suicide rate? Fuck, remember Capella?"

Harry slammed his open palm onto the desk, the parchments bouncing from the impact.

"Stop acting like a spoiled brat," he said, his voice cold as ice, "Yes, Capella couldn't handle it. Yes, most of them lose it. I'm going out on a limb to give you a fucking chance! Or would you rather we just execute him once we've wrung him dry?"

Draco's face crumpled, his eyes rolling around madly.

"No," he said thickly, "I guess not. Re-education it is. Fuck."

"It's not up to me," Harry said, "not entirely. It depends on what the Dark Lord says."

"You-you're going to tell him?"

Harry stretched his arm out, resting his hand on Draco's trembling shoulder.

"Already have. Cyrus left two hours ago."

Draco's hands rose, covering his face as his body was wracked with pent-up tears.

The pity overcame his rage, softening his tone when he next spoke.

"We're gonna do our best to capture him alive. And I promise you, I'll do everything I can to make sure he's not executed. But we're not getting away with less than re-education. It's just not in the cards."

Someone knocked on his door.

"Sir?" Helga called, "Blaise is here with Carter, Winters, and Biscus."

"Just a minute," he called.

Draco stood slowly, leaning heavily on his cane, looking like he'd aged ten years in the last twenty minutes.

"Fucking hell, Harry," he said, a forced smile making his face look grotesque, "this parenting thing isn't all it's cracked out to be, is it?"

* * *

 _Bellona Potter_

She jumped up the instant she regained consciousness.

Tried to jump up, at least.

She only actually managed to rise a few inches off of the bed before she was sucked back down, pulled back into the softness by no visible source.

She looked around wildly, the details of the room she was in slowly sinking in.

She was lying on a large bed, slightly larger than a double.

The sheets, pillows, and blankets were white.

So were the walls. No paintings, wallpapers, or decorations were hung. There were no windows, and she could see no door.

The only furniture in the room was a small couch with a chair facing it.

Both of them white.

There was a small doorway, leading to what looked like a bathroom.

A doorway, but no door blocking it.

Slowly, her heart rate returned to normal, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.

 _'Must be St. Mungo's. The loony ward. Shit.'_

She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself down.

The ward she was in was nearly as secure as fucking Azkaban. She knew that there were plenty of guards, and that the ward itself was hidden somewhere in St. Mungo's' building.

She had no wand.

She tried to raise her arm, pushing with all of her might.

It didn't matter. Once it got about five inches above the bed it was pushed back down, pushed by something as immovable and undeniable as the Earth.

 _'Fuck. There's no escaping from here! I should have just left when I could have, shouldn't have-'_

Her eyes widened as an idea occurred.

 _'But is it possible?'_

It could be. She couldn't know until she tried.

Merlin, she had no idea of their methods.

 _'I'll have to wing it. And even if it fails, it's still better than my other options.'_

A section of the wall slid aside, making not a sound.

Bellona looked up to see a plump, matronly woman in a white robe walking in, flanked by two heavyset men with wands drawn.

The woman held a goblet, filled with some steaming potion.

"Good morning Miss. Potter," she said cheerfully, "I'm sure that you have many questions."

"I-where am I?" Bella asked, making herself stutter, making her voice seem weak and soft.

"You're in St. Mungo's," the woman said, her curly hair bobbing as she walked closer. "My name is Healer Wentwick, but you can call me Annamarie, or Ann, if you like."

The guard on the left's wand was trembling.

She had to smother her instinctive smirk at the sight.

 _'Good to know they're afraid of me.'_

"Do you mind if I call you by your given name?"

"Yes," she said, "I do."

"That's fine," Wentwick said, her smile not faltering in the least. "It's entirely your choice, whatever you feel comfortable with."

"Can I get out of this-this fucking bed?"

"You can, once you've drunk this potion."

"What's it-what's it do?"

"It'll just relax you, dear. Just to calm you down, make sure you won't be a danger."

She eyed the goblet, weighing her options.

 _'It just might work.'_

"I'll do it."

Wentwick beamed, walking up to her.

The guards stayed a little behind, their wands trained and ready.

"Lovely. It'll help, you'll see. Now, I'd like you to raise your head. Just until you start feeling some pressure."

She did, pushing her head almost as high as it could go.

"That's it. Now, just angle your chin downward."

As she did so, Wentwick pushed the goblet up against her mouth, tipping the liquid in.

 _'The moment of truth.'_

She swallowed, gulping it down.

It didn't taste that bad, actually. Not like all the medicinal potions she was used to.

It was vaguely reminiscent of Butterbeer, with a richness to it that she really hadn't been expecting.

The goblet was pulled away.

"We'll just give it a few minutes," Wentwick said, "let it have a chance to take effect."

She waited.

She started feeling it, like a cloudiness was sinking in over her mind, coating her brain with gunk.

It crept along, crushing her desire to wipe the smile off of Wentwick's face, vanishing an omnipresent murderous rage she hadn't even been aware of feeling.

Her muscles all relaxed, tension seeping out of her back, her face settling into what felt like a happily bemused expression.

And then she felt her body fighting back.

She managed to keep herself from grinning as the fog vanished, just managed to keep her face in the same expression, her muscles relaxed.

Inside, she was exuberant.

She'd thought it might work. One of the rituals she had done to prepare her body for the creation of a Horcrux had strengthened her body's ability to fight poisons. It would take a far stronger poison to kill her than it would for a regular person.

She thought that it was that ritual which prevented alcohol from affecting her properly.

Whatever it was, it seemed to work on the potion they'd fed her.

"How do you feel?" Wentwick asked.

She made her voice heavy, dragged her words out and spoke slowly.

"I feel...calm. Warm. Comfortable."

Wentwick gave a little clap.

"Would you say that you enjoy the feeling?"

 _'I'm going to rip your fucking heart out.'_

"I...yes. I feel...whole."

"Wonderful! Just lie back, I'm going to release you from the bed."

"Okay," she said, hating how idiotic and weak she sounded.

"Lovely. You can sit up now, if you like."

She did, forcing herself to move as slowly as she could.

"Will you hold your hands out, please? Wrists together?"

She nodded, not letting her smile vanish.

Wentwick tapped her wrists gently with her wand, muttering something.

She felt a light presence around her hands, as if a piece of string had been tied around them.

When she tried, she couldn't separate them.

 _'I'll nail your hands together, cunt. How dare you?'_

"I'd like to have a chat with you, Miss. Potter. If you don't mind?"

She nodded.

"Excellent. Lemuel and Howard will wait just outside."

The two grunts walked out without a word.

Bella kept her eyes focused on Wentwick, not letting her see how closely she was paying attention to the guards; how carefully she watched where exactly they exited the room. "Would you like to walk around a little bit, stretch your legs? Or you can sit on the bed or the couch. Whichever you prefer."

"I think...I'd like the couch."

"As you wish," Wentwick said, standing up and walking to the chair.

Bella followed, her legs feeling weaker than usual.

 _'It's still affecting me a little. My muscles, at least."_

She settled into the couch, stretching her legs out and giving a little sigh.

"Tell me, Miss. Potter. Do you know why you're here?"

She looked down, letting her smile slowly fade.

"Because...I'm bad?"

"Do you think you're bad?"

She could feel Wentwick's eyes on her.

"I must be. I hurt them. They must hate me."

"They don't hate you. Miss. Potter, they brought you here to help you, so that you can overcome these issues that have been plaguing you. If they hated you, they would have done nothing. They love you."

 _'They did nothing until they had no other choice, you brainless lump!'_

"Even after...what I did?"

Wentwick sighed, leaning forward and putting her hand on Bella's shoulder.

She fought down the urge to snap at it, to rip the fingers away with her teeth.

"They love you. I think that right now, they're worried, and they're feeling very hurt, but they love you."

She didn't say anything.

"Miss. Potter, your father told me about the things you said to him. How you don't feel anything. Was that entirely truthful?"

Bella looked up.

"I feel happy," she said quietly, "I do."

"I meant without the potion's influence."

She allowed her brow to crease, allowed her vapid smile to fall away.

"I just...I don't feel like other people do."

"How so?"

 _'Play along. Can't act, not yet. Need to play along.'_

"I just feel empty. Like there's nothing inside of me."

"And do you feel like that all of the time?"

She shook her head.

"When do you feel differently?"

 _'If he told her that much, he told her everything.'_

"When I'm breaking someone," she said, making her face drop. "Sometimes also when I'm drunk. Or if I'm having good sex."

"Well," Wentwick said conspiratorially, "good sex is life changing." Bella laughed, and from Wentwick's smile, it sounded real enough.

"Let me ask you something. Would you like to change? To be able to feel, all of the time?"

"Do you think I can?"

"Why would you think you can't?"

She bit her lip, adopting a thoughtful expression.

 _'He must have told her everything.'_

"Because that's how they made me. Mummy and daddy. I don't know how to be anything else."

"It's never too late to learn," Wentwick said, her voice full of pity, "you can learn, if you want. Your parents want to change, they want to do better, and they want to help you do better. Do you think that's what you want?"

"I...I..."

She trailed off, nodding her head.

"You do?"

"I do."

"Lovely. Lovely. I want you to just relax today. If you want, we can bring you some books. Tomorrow, we'll talk again."

Bella watched as the woman stood and smiled down at her.

"I'd like you to think about what you want to talk about. If you can pinpoint why you feel this way. And I want you to keep in mind how lovely it will be once we've worked through this. Ok?"

"Ok," she agreed, nodding wildly.

 _'I'm going to eat your heart. You stupid cow, I'm going to tear your limbs off one by one.'_

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror._

"I-I-I can't believe it. That I'm here. I thought-I thought it would never end." Hermione sat next to Ron, running her hand across his hairless scalp.

"And we're-we're traveling again?""Later today," Harry said, gripping Ginny's hand tight, "the Healers say they'll give you the go-ahead in a few hours."

"They said you could go now, theoretically," Hermione said, not looking away from Ron's face, "but they'd prefer to keep you under watch for a little bit longer. Make sure that you're not in danger."

"If they're-they're coming," Ron said, shaking and paling, "why are we waiting? We can't wait, not if they're coming, not if she's coming, we can't-"

"We've got lookouts," Ginny said quickly, "we'll know as soon as they're in the area."

"And-and then we'll go?" Ron said desperately, his chest heaving, "We won't wait, they can't get us again, they can't!"

"We'll go straight away," Hermione agreed, "before they're even inside. I promise you, they won't get us."

"You promise?"

"I swear it, Hermione said, speaking in a gentle, loving tone, "I won't let them."

Harry turned his head, rubbing his eyes where Ron couldn't see.

God, but this was a nightmare.

A part of him had thought that everything would go back to normal once Ron woke up.

The part of him that was a naive fool, that is.

He should have realized. A week of torture would be enough to affect anyone, and a week of torture by people who were as demented as the people here were...

He could only hope that it wouldn't be permanent.

"You won't let her get me?"

"She can't, Ron," Ginny said, "Scorpius said she's been locked up by her family."

"Isn't it funny?" Hermione said, "In our world, Scorpius is dating Albus, and here he's a spy for the Order."

"So we're going to-to Peru?"

"Yeah. And then we're going to make our way home. With everyone from here. We'll manage it, Ron. Before you know it, we'll be back home."

"How are we going to-to make that thing work?" Ron asked, "If we have to-to kill someone?"

"We'll do what we have to," Hermione said, still stroking his head, "Rookwood, if we can. We'll need him, to find out what he knows about it."

"I don't think I'll be able to run. Not with this-this leg they've given me. Do you think I'll ever be able to-to play Quidditch again?"

"As if you could play it in the first place," Ginny said, squeezing his shoulder.

A ghost of a smile flashed across Ron's face, there and gone in the blink of an eye.

"At least its better than Moody's was," Ron said, "looks more real."

It did. It was actually damn impressive, how well they'd managed to pull it off. It didn't quite pass close inspection, but at first glance, it seemed no different to his other leg. He'd walked around a little bit, half an hour before. He hadn't been completely steady on it but had been able to walk without anyone holding him.

"We should give them some privacy," Ginny whispered, "now that he's more himself."

He nodded to her, pulling Hermione into a half-hug and looking down at Ron.

"You just rest," he said, "rest and heal."

As he and Ginny left, they heard Ron asking Hermione in a plaintive voice: "you promise you won't let her get me?"

Ginny shuddered, pulling close to him.

"It'll be ok," he murmured, "he'll get over it. It'll take time, but he'll move forward."

"I hope so."

"He will, Gin. He will."

"He'd better."

Luna was waiting outside their room when they arrived.

"What've the Healers said?" She asked.

"It's a lot better than they thought," Ginny said, "They think Ron can travel in a few hours, they just want to observe for a bit first, and it sounds about the same with Hermione."

"Amazing," Luna said fervently, looking like a weight had been pulled off of her shoulders.

"Any news from the lookouts?"

"No. Alaloke just checked in with them a few minutes ago. They've seen nothing suspicious. We're still going to start patrolling. Any of you want to join?"

Harry thought quickly, noticing the way Luna looked at Ginny.

 _'They were best friends in this world. And I don't think she feels fully comfortable with me.'_

"I just want a quick nap," he said, "like, twenty minutes or so. Feeling absolutely blown. Maybe after that, I'll join?"

"What about you, Ginny?"

Ginny nodded.

"If you're still asleep when we get back," she warned, "I'm going to soak you."

"Love you too."

He entered his room as Ginny and Luna walked off, Luna already starting to talk.

He wasn't lying about being exhausted. The last few days had been totally overwhelming, non-stop movement. And last night, with Scorpius' arrival, the upheaval that followed, and all the evacuation plans, he hadn't gotten much real sleep.

 _'Might as well catch some shut-eye.'_

He was asleep the instant he hit the bed.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters_.

From behind the safety of the mass Disillusionment Charm, they watched the Sasquatch enter the mountain.

"Nice work with the Imperius, Carter," he said, turning to the rest of them, "their lookouts really don't seem like they're under it at all."

"Got a knack for it," Carter said with a grin.

"I think we're ready. Get the squad."

He heard Carter calling, heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

He kept his eyes on the mountain, thinking carefully. When the shuffling behind him came to a stop he turned, facing them.

One of Biscus' squads. They specialized in stealth, in operating under total secrecy.

Thirty witches and wizards, all of them were clad in strange robes that barely fluttered in the wind, that shimmered as they reflected everything behind them.

Not exactly invisibility cloaks. More like camouflage that changed depending on its surroundings.

They weren't perfect. But invisibility cloaks were a lot harder to fight with them on.

They'd go in under Disillusionment Charms, but there were too many charms and wards that could disable Disillusionment Charms to rely solely on them.

"Ok, men. You know the drill. Take as many alive as possible, only use lethal force for defence or if they're raising the alarm."

They nodded, looking grim.

"Ok. Good luck. We'll be joining you soon enough."

They marched forward, tapping themselves with their wands and vanishing as they went. "If it was me," Blaise said quietly, walking up between Harry and Carter, "I'd have all sorts of fail-safes. Like bringing down the whole fucking mountain, or filling the place with flames."

"Me too," Harry said, "which is why we aren't going in en masse until the only people standing in there are ours."

"And if they have trouble?"

"Well," Harry said, glancing to the forest of greyish-black cloaks, "that's why we brought the Dementors."

* * *

 _Luna Lovegood._

She walked with Ginny through the caverns and stairwells, wands at the ready.

She still couldn't believe it, that Ginny was there.

It was absurd, ridiculous.

Loony.

But it was true. It was real. Ginny was really here, and Ron and Hermione were going to be ok, and it was real.

Since they'd arrived, she'd been seeing her dead friends less.

Every day since they'd arrived, she caught fewer glimpses of them.

Today, she hadn't even seen one. Not one.

It was a miracle. Almost enough to make her feel hopeful again.

"What would you like to do," Ginny asked, "when you get to our world?"

She hadn't allowed herself to dare and think that far. But now, with them going to Peru, with all of the rebellion so far agreeing to at least try and travel to these alternate worlds where hope still lived, she couldn't stop herself.

"I don't know. Honestly, I think I'd like to just walk through the streets of London. To see it as it should be."

"No idea on a job you'd like?"

"Not really," she said as they turned a corner, "maybe I'll just join the version of me there in what she's doing. You said that she's a writer?"

Ginny smiled wistfully, looking like she had for so many years in Luna's imagination.

"Yeah. She and Rolf, the Rolf there, they're writing a children's book. Fairy tales. They say that Beedle's too outdated."

"It is," she said seriously, "but I still wouldn't trust a fairy tail. They make you sneeze."

Ginny started laughing and Luna stopped, amazed at herself.

Fairy tails make you sneeze. That wasn't the type of thought she'd had in decades.

 _'Next thing you know,'_ she thought giddily, _'I'll see a Crumple-Horned Snorkack!'_

"Well, I don't think they're calling them fairy tales, more like-"

A red jet of light shot from thin air, flying straight at Ginny.

Ginny, though, had good reflexes.

She managed to twist out of the way, the Stunner missing her by less than an inch.

 _'Someone invisible!'_

Luna slashed her wand instinctively, her cutting curse clearly missing the apparition.

It hit the wall instead, causing rocks to come crumbling down.

She slashed her wand again, conjuring an enormous pile of paint and sending it shooting forward while Ginny started to scream.

"HELP!" She cried, just as the paint hit. Most of it splashed against the wall, but a small amount of it stopped in mid-air, hanging roughly at chest height.

"THERE'S SOMEONE-"

Ginny cut off her sentence, just getting a shield charm up in time to stop the next Stunner.

"FINITE INCANTATEM!" Luna shouted, jabbing the wand at the entire corridor ahead.

A person appeared, his face and hands seeming to hang in the air.

"THERE'S SOMEONE HERE," Ginny shouted, shooting a Stunner while Luna cast another frantic cutter.

The wizard deflected it, growling as he sent another curse their way.

She jumped to the side, the curse hitting the wall right behind where she'd been standing and blowing a hole in it.

She and Ginny ducked around the corner, hastily conjuring a stone pillar behind her.

She heard a rumbling of distant footsteps and started to run, grabbing Ginny by the hand.

Hagrid appeared at the end of the tunnel that they were in, wearing his armour.

"Wha's goin' on?" He bellowed, heaving his axe, "ye-"There was a sickly splat and Ginny fell, blood spurting from the fist-sized hole in her back.

Luna dropped to her knees at the sight, her mind going totally blank.

A spell zipped through the air, right where her head had been, colliding harmlessly with Hagrid's breastplate and dissipating.

She pushed Ginny over as Hagrid roared, stared with horror at the hole in Ginny's chest as he jumped over her with his axe flying.

"Ginny, Ginny, no, no, no, Ginny, no, don't, no-"

Hagrid's shouts meant nothing to her.

The agonized scream that abruptly ended didn't matter.

All that mattered was that Ginny was lying there with a gaping hole in her chest that Luna could see the stone floor though.

She was lying there, her chest not moving at all, her eyes sightless.

"DEATH EATERS IN THE MOUNTAIN," Hagrid shouted, "THEY'RE HERE!"

Luna just stared into Ginny's dead eyes, her mind totally blank.

"Come on, Luna. We've got to get ou' o' here." She didn't say anything. She couldn't find words, couldn't make her vocal cords work. Hagrid sighed, and she felt large hands closing around her, lifting her effortlessly up and cradling her before him.

"I'm sorry, Luna. Bu' I can't take her and you both. No' if I wan' to be able to fight. I'm sorry."

She couldn't leave Ginny lying there. Couldn't just leave her on the floor like a broken doll.

"I'll walk," she said, the words torn out of her. "I'll walk, just bring her."

Gently, Hagrid lowered her to the ground, picking Ginny's body up carefully as she left his hands.

'Poor Ginny,' she thought, as her mind went blank again, 'poor Ginny, poor Harry. Poor Luna.'

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32_

Hermione had just stopped talking when they heard Hagrid's shouted warning.

He jumped to his feet, drawing his wand with clumsy fingers and nearly dropping it.

"They're here, they're here," Hermione said, her body shaking like a leaf and her chest heaving as she started hyperventilating, "they're here, they're here, oh god-"

"Hermione! Look at me!"

Her eyes swung to him, pulled instinctively by the tone.

"We're going to be ok," he said, reaching out and taking her hand, "we're going to Peru, remember?"

"They'll-they'll block Apparition, we won't be able to Portkey out-"

"Scorpius is here," he said, massaging her fingers, "and he's got-"

"Scor-Scorpius? He's one of them!"

"He's the spy. He's got Fawkes, he's the one-"

She shrunk away from him, shaking her head in frantic denial.

"No, no, no, he's one of them! He-he helped, he helped-"

"I don't know what he did, but he was acting. He's the spy, Hermione. He has Fawkes, and Luna confirmed it. He's on our side, and he's going to help us get away."

Hermione closed her eyes tight, still shaking her head.

"Deep breaths, honey," he said soothingly, "nice and deep. Clear your mind. It's all right, I'm here."

Slowly, her breathing went back to normal, her chest rising and falling less rapidly.

"He hurt me," she said, still not opening her eyes, "he-he did."

Something ugly reared its head in his chest.

 _'He had no choice!'_ A part of him shouted, _'he hated doing it, he didn't want to, but he had to!'_

"I'll never forgive him for that," he said, "but I'll still use him to get out of here."

"I can't tr-trust him. Not-not after..."

 _'What the fuck did he do?'_

"Will you trust Fawkes? Don't trust him. He won't even go with you. But will you trust Fawkes?"

She opened her eyes, looking up at him with a childlike hope.

"I will," she said, "I do. He took me out of there, he saved me. I can trust him. I can trust Fawkes."

"Brilliant. You're still the bravest person I know."

"I'm not," she whispered, "I couldn't hold out, I told them everything, gave them everything. I'm not brave."

He glanced at the curtain around her bed before bending back down to her.

"You are," He said forcefully, "you are! God, Hermione, what you went through, anyone would have given in. They're experts at getting information out of people, it's what they do. But you said that you held out, that you went as long as you could, and that you still tried to lie to them. And here you are, and you're talking, and you're not closing yourself away in your mind. That's bravery."

The curtain around her bed opened, making him spin around and raise his wand.

Silverthorne held up his hands, speaking hurriedly.

"We're preparing for the evacuations. We're going to run her over one last time, while we wait."

"Is she ready?"

"It's not ideal," Silverthorne said, his face taut, "but we believe it's doable. There should be a medical team waiting in Peru."

Harry nodded, glancing at the line of witches and wizards facing the infirmary door.

"Will you join them? To stand guard while we prepare?"

He turned to Hermione, giving her a quick kiss.

"It'll be ok, love," he whispered, "You'll see."

"It has to be," she said, "it has to."

He walked up to the grim line, taking an empty space at the far end.

Hagrid's voice echoed, as he repeated his warning over and over.

"They shouldn't be able to find us so easily, right?" One of the wizards asked, "We're deep in the tunnels. We shouldn't have to face them, right?"

Before Harry could even answer, there was a flash of golden light.

Fawkes appeared, with Scorpius holding onto one of his talons.

A burst of hot rage filled Harry at the sight, Hermione's terrified voice ringing in his mind.

"Fawkes will start taking them," Scorpius said, walking up to Harry, "who's first?"

"Hermione, and whoever else he can take. How many can he take at a time?"

Fawkes cocked his head to one side, staring at Harry unblinkingly.

"He says he can take however many can hold."

"Ron goes first," the other Hermione said, seeming to appear from nowhere behind them. "He's in the first group."

"Both of them," Harry said, "and as many Healers as can go with. Silverthorne and whoever else can."

Before they got any further with the discussion, the infirmary door opened.

No one walked in.

Acting purely on instinct, Harry shot a Stunner at the open doorway right as Scorpius shouted: "STEALTH SQUADS! THEY'RE INVISIBLE!"

The air hummed as the entire line of guards attacked at once, dozens of colourful jets zipping through the air.

A body appeared, falling to the ground with a dent in its skull.

"I'll take that," Scorpius said, walking forward and grabbing the Death Eater's wand before closing the door again.

"Let's get out of here," Harry said, his voice cold as ice.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

They heard the distant roar.

After a moment, it came again.

"THEY'RE HERE! DEATH EATERS IN THE MOUNTAIN!"

He turned his head, catching the attention of one of the Dementors and nodding.

With barely a sound, the enormous group of Dementors flowed forward, a surging mass of horror spilling into the mountain.

"That'll take care of them." Carter said.

"We can only hope," he said quietly.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror._

He was just at the door to his room, his heart pounding, when he felt it.

The lights seemed to dim, a thick gloom settling in on him.

 _'They're here. It's too late, they're here.'_

All the horrors he'd witnessed since he'd arrived in this world came crashing down on him, images of the slave auction and Ron's wounds flashing before his eyes.

It was hopeless. They still didn't know how to get out of here, how they'd get home, they were-

He noticed a sound, barely on the edge of hearing.

A sound of a woman screaming his name.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" He shouted, filling his head with thoughts of his children.

Prongs appeared, running straight through the closed door.

 _'Dementor!'_ He thought, as the light returned and the cold lessened, _'and it almost got me!'_

He ran out of the room, brandishing his wand before him.

His Patronus was standing at the end of the corridor, lighting up his path with its ethereal glow.

 _'Got to get to the infirmary. That's where we'll leave from.'_

With Prongs leading the way, he went.

They encountered Dementors twice before he was there. Both times, the silvery stag simply lowered its head and charged, making the Dementors scatter.

He was only a stairway away from the infirmary when he first saw a human enemy.

He was limping forward as Harry turned the corner, blood dripping from a gash in his leg.

For a moment, Harry and him just stared at one another.

Then he struck, waving his wand as Harry jumped to the side.

Harry got a Shield Charm up just in time, the force of the curse still knocking him to the floor but doing no serious injury.

The Death Eater began to move his wand again.

From his position in the ground, Harry slashed his wand desperately, screaming the first spell that came to mind.

"EXPULSO!"

It missed the Death Eater, but the crumbling wall didn't.

He lay there with his hands over his head until the rocks stopped falling.

It became harder to move after that. He'd twisted his ankle badly in the fall, and one of the falling rocks had hit him in the small of his back.

He stumbled along to the infirmary, trying to ignore the echoing, terrible screams in the distance.

"Just get there," he muttered, gripping the wall tightly as he walked, "just get there."

There were four bodies sprawled outside the infirmary door.

He glanced at them as he drew nearer, almost too terrified to look closely at the faces.

None of them seemed to be anyone that he recognized. They all were wearing those strange robes, seeming almost invisible against the stone floor.

"It's me," he called, knocking on the door, his ankle screaming as it rubbed against one of the bodies, "Harry."

The door swung inward.

The infirmary was far emptier than he'd have thought. There was Hagrid's bulk blocking part of the room from sight, but he could still see a pair of legs on the ground behind the half-giant.

Luna was sitting on the floor next to Hagrid, with Rolf cradling her.

No-one else was there.

"Did everyone make it out?" He asked, walking forward. "Or is there-"

His voice didn't trail off, when he saw what Hagrid's body had been covering. It disappeared, the rest of the question catching in his throat and dying.

Ginny lay on the floor behind Hagrid, looking almost peaceful. Her eyes were closed, her face at rest.

The hole in her torso dragged his eyes, not allowing them to leave it.

He wasn't aware of moving to her side, didn't notice as his Patronus puffed away. One second he was standing at the door, the next he was on the ground with her head in his lap.

"Ginny, Ginny don't, it's-"

"Harry, mate-"

He ignored Rolf, letting the words fly over his head.

"Ginny. Come on. Come on."

He felt enormous hands gripping his shoulders, gently pulling him away from her.

"No," he said calmly, wanting to explain, because it couldn't be, it didn't make sense, Ginny couldn't be dead, she couldn't be.

"No," he repeated, looking up at Hagrid's teary expression, "there's some mistake, there's-"

"Harry," Rolf said in a shaky voice, "I'm so sorry, mate. But she's-"

He didn't hear the end of Rolf's sentence. Everything went grey as he fainted, Ginny's face filling his mind as he fell to the ground.

* * *

 _Alaloke_

He stood in a little cleft of rock, breathing as quietly as possible.

His nostrils flared as someone walked past.

As silent as a shadow, he slipped out of the rock, looking toward the smell.

Even with his eyesight, he could see no one.

He could smell them, though. Their scent painted a vivid picture, their body drawn in the air they disturbed, in the sweat dripping down their neck.

He reached out, clamping his paw around the invisible head and squeezing till it popped like an overripe watermelon.

Blood splattered, the body becoming visible as it fell.

He was running before it even hit the floor, ducking into a small tunnel.

He almost tripped on a body, its olfactory presence making itself aware just as his feet would have hit it.

He stopped his run with a sigh, not needing to look at the face, not when his nose had already confirmed the identity.

"You should have left with the others," he said, moving the crystal into his left paw as he picked up Serena's corpse with his right.

He caught a glimpse of her face and paused, frowning.

There seemed to be no injuries on her. Her face, and indeed, her entire body was unmarred, no cuts or blood.

 _'The Killing Curse, fool. It leaves no mark.'_

But there was something strange about her eyes. They were blank, but not filled with the blankness of death.

And he thought her chest was still moving, breaths being drawn in almost imperceptibly.

The scent dug into his nose, reaching directly into his brain and setting off a panic.

He dropped her body and ran, feeling the terrible cold beginning to surround him.

Something hit him in the leg, cutting right through the bone and felling him.

He managed to twist his arm under him, managed to keep hold of the crystal.

He smelled the approaching human, smelled the Dementors with it.

He sighed, pulling his paw up to his mouth, holding the crystal close enough for his breath to make its surface fog up. "Go on," he heard the human say, "I'll take this one out, you go see if there are any others."

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, inhaling as much as he could while he still lived.

"Stupid fucking animal," the human said, walking right up to him, "you just-"

"Freedom," He said, feeling the crystal respond and begin to vibrate, "will never die."

The phrase completed, the crystal shattered.

And the mountain collapsed.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters._

He scowled, turning to face his men.

Behind him, the enormous pile of broken rock groaned, settling into the earth.

"I want that entire wreck swept through," he ordered, "any bodies found in there, I want them identified. I want to be able to give a full report on this when the Emperor returns, so get fucking moving."

"When'll he be back?" Blaise asked.

"Next few days. The sooner, the better."

He turned back to the rubble, gripping his wand tightly.

Things could only improve with the Dark Lord around.

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	13. 13--Interlude III

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/ P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Interlude III

* * *

 _15 May 2028  
_

 _Albus Severus Potter_

He lay on his bed, the feeling of unreality smothering him again.

That feeling came and went. It had been absent for a bit, only returning when his tears had run dry, the seemingly unending wellspring suddenly exhausted.

He knew that he should get up, have a shower, have something to drink.

He just couldn't build up the energy.

He didn't know if it was the knowing or the not knowing that was worse.

He didn't know how, or why, or where.

But he knew that his mother was dead.

Dead, in some godforsaken world that he knew next to nothing about.

He and Scorpius had been eating dinner the night before when the Floo had suddenly whirled into life.

He'd actually felt hopeful for a few seconds, as James had walked into their apartment.

He'd thought that for James to come without giving warning, there must have been something important enough that he just couldn't wait.

He'd been hopeful, until he'd seen the look on James' face.

His voice had shrivelled up and died in his throat, James' helpless, lost expression killing any attempt to talk before he'd even tried.

He and Scorpius had simply listened and then followed James to the Burrow.

That had been almost as bad as the not knowing.

For his whole life, the Burrow had been a vibrant, joyous place, a place that thrummed with life and laughter.

It hadn't been like that yesterday.

It had been full of hushed, whispered conversations, full of shocked and pained expressions, full of tears and confusion.

His grandmother had been cooking frantically as if she could distract herself from her grief. It clearly hadn't been working. Her sobs had echoed through the house, making everyone wince.

She'd been holding the Clock when it happened, when his mother's hand had suddenly started flying around the face, gaining speed until it fell off.

Albus was just glad that he hadn't witnessed it. He thought it would have driven him mad.

He'd spent the night at the Burrow, not talking, just sitting and clutching Scorpius for dear life, wavering between that feeling of non-reality and torrents of tears.

Now, he was back in his apartment, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, feeling empty and alone.

They still had no idea what had happened, how she'd died. They knew that his father was alright, that Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione were alright, and that his mother was dead.

His mother was dead.

He heard Scorpius talking to someone, just outside of the bedroom.

The door creaked as it opened.

"Hey, Albus," Teddy said softly, "mind if I come in?"

He grunted non-committedly, moving a little closer to the wall.

The bed sprang up slightly as Teddy sat on the foot of it.

"How are you feeling?"

"Pretty shitty, to be honest."

Teddy didn't reply.

"It just doesn't-doesn't feel real," Albus said, the words pouring out of him in a sudden rush, "it's just out of nowhere. There's no-no b-body, no witnesses. There's the Clock, and I-I understand what it means. But I don't-don't feel it. It just feels like this is a shitty dream, and I'm gonna wake up and none of this will have happened. But I know that I won't."

"And you still wish that you would," Teddy said, his voice cracked and wavering.

"Yeah. And I just want to-to know what the fuck happened. And I'm-I'm terrified, I don't know if Dad-if he'll-"

"You've got to have hope," Teddy said, "you can't give up, Al. You can't!"

"Why not? It's not like my having hope does anything! It's not like there's anything I can do! I'm just sitting here waiting, wondering what's going on, and I still can't accept that my mother died!"

Tears appeared again, his eyes overflowing in a flash.

Teddy waited patiently as he sobbed, making soothing noises but saying nothing.

Eventually, the tears passed.

"It's not fair," Teddy said quietly, "and you're right. There's nothing that you can do. You need to take time. Cry. Mourn. But don't do it alone. The family's all together, in the Burrow. You should be there too."

"I can't face it," he whispered, "It's so-so-"

"Depressing?"

"Yeah."

"It is. But it's meant to be. But you'll see, being with other people, people who're going through what you are, it'll help. They'll help you, and you'll help them."

"I just want to know what's going on!" He cried.

"You can't," Teddy said gently, reaching over and clasping his shoulder. "Nobody can. Not until your father gets back. And he will, Al. He'll be back."

"Do you-do you really think so?"

"I know it. He'll be back."

Teddy stood up, rubbing at his face as he did.

"When I was in school, there were a few of us. War orphans. We used to meet once a week, talk about stuff. Mostly just complain about how unfair it was, that everyone else had their parents and we didn't. But it helped. It really, really did. Come to the Burrow, Al. If you shut yourself away from everyone, it'll only make things worse."

"How much worse can things even be?"

"They can always be worse," Teddy said, "your mind can always make things seem worse. Being around people helps."

Slowly, Albus got out of bed, his thoughts running sluggishly.

Teddy hugged him tightly, tears dripping onto Albus' shoulder.

"He'll be back, Al. I promise you, your father will be back."

' _Somehow,'_ Albus thought _'I just can't believe you.'_

* * *

 _James Ronald Remus Potter_

His holding cell was sparse, the bare concrete walls seeming to mock him for his failure.

He had a reasonable idea of the enchantments used to keep him in his chair, but without a wand, he might as well have had no clue.

' _It was a fucking stupid plan. God, I'm such a bloody idiot!'_

If he'd only planned it out longer. If he'd only thought it through, maybe it could have worked.

Or at least, maybe he wouldn't have done it, maybe he wouldn't have been caught.

He put his head in his hands, grateful that at least he could move them.

The door swung open, soft footfalls announcing his visitor's presence.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Tonks said, sliding into the chair across the desk from him. "Bloody hell, James, this has got to be the stupidest thing you've ever done!"

She looked pissed, her hair obsidian black and done up in a small, McGonagall-like bun.

"I know," he said quietly, looking down.

"Do you? Do you know that Corner's been sacked? One of your father's oldest squad members, sacked because you convinced him to join in your absurd plot!"

He closed his eyes, regret burning a hole in his chest.

"Do you know that if Ilvermoney hear about this, you'll be out of a job?"

"Why's it even matter?"

Tonks' voice softened, taking on a pitying edge.

"Oh, James. It matters because life will go on."

"Does it? Does it really? You don't think about him anymore?"

"Remus is dead, James. He died years before you were even thought of. Your parents aren't."

"We don't know that," he said, looking at her again.

"Until we have reason to think otherwise, we assume they're alive. I know you don't want to hear this right now. I know you're suffering, you're hurting so bad that you just wish it would be over. But life goes on. Not a day goes by that I don't think of Remus. Not a day goes by that I don't miss him. I still get out of bed in the morning and go to work. Because life goes on."

"I just-I just want to know."

Tonks reached across the table, squeezing his hand tight.

"I know. We all do. But what you did, it was beyond stupid."

"What's-what's going to happen to me?"

Tonks shook her head, a small smile pulling at her lips. "You know, you're probably the luckiest criminal in the world. Officially, it's going down as trespass on the Department of Mysteries. Wójcik had a bounty on his head, so there's no kidnapping charge, and there wouldn't have been a murder charge if you'd have gone through with it."

"And unofficially?"

"They're going to be watching you very, very carefully. At least until your parents are back."

"You said that-that Corner's been sacked?"

"Come on, James! It's obvious as hell what you guys were planning. If your parents weren't who they are, you'd be looking at much worse than probation. You don't know how lucky you are."

"When can I get out of here?"

"Probably another few hours. They're still working out the finer points of your probation. Who'll be watching you, that type of thing."

James sighed.

"I know it sucks. I know this whole situation is hellish. But I need you to make me a promise, James. Promise me that you won't pull another stunt like this."

He looked around the spartan cell, the rewards of his failure.

"I promise."

* * *

 _Lord Voldemort_

"Your service is appreciated," He said, focusing on the messenger before Him, "report to the Unspeakables, they will wish to ask you about your journey. Then rest. Return to Earth once you have regained your strength."

"I will, m-my lord," the man said, not daring to look Him in the eye, "does your l-lordship wish me to take a message to the Director?"

"Unnecessary," Lord Voldemort said. "I will have returned to Earth before you."

He waited for the terrified man to leave His sight before turning, snarling under His breath as he did.

After decades of His tutelage, Harry should not be so utterly incompetent.

He should have been capable of at least maintaining the status quo of the Empire.

Should have, but apparently was not.

He strode through the building, heading directly for His quarters.

Their work had been progressing magnificently. His and the Unspeakables' experiments had shown many promising results, and He believed it to be only a matter of time before they were capable of growing vegetation.

For now, He had created something none had done before Him: a community of wizards dwelling on the moon.

Oh, everyone there was busy with their experiments, all of them studying and theorizing, bringing possibilities into reality.

In time, He knew, it would grow. Once they had sorted out the many issues that being beyond the Earth's atmosphere created, His Empire would stretch.

He entered His room, striding over to a very specific stretch of wall and placing one long-fingered hand on it.

The wall swung aside.

He walked through the doorway, coming to a stop a few meters away from it.

The universe lay around Him, a glittering tapestry, each star and planet a jewel.

A jewel which would one day know His rule.

Whether or not they were inhabited was immaterial. All that mattered was that His rule would encompass them all.

He focused on the ball hanging in the velvet sky, the green and blue swirls coating it.

From His vantage point, it looked to be no larger than His hand.

For a short while He simply stood there, letting the sight of His Empire calm him.

Then, with a sigh, He began to read Harry's report, his fury growing as He went through it.

The Elder Wand flashed, the parchment vanishing in a puff of smoke.

' _This will have to be handled with great prudence. Harry has ever been a useful tool, albeit one that could turn in the hand.'_

He was certain that His careful machinations had rendered the prophecy all but obsolete, but He would have to be a fool to act in a way that could turn His Horcrux against Him.

If, as Dumbledore had believed, the power that the prophecy referred to was love, Harry still possessed it.

It was absurd to think that love could somehow triumph over Him.

Love was nothing but a weakness. Take Harry, for example. His love had forced him to share the secrets of immortality, to turn a blind eye to his daughter's growing insanity.

His love had weakened him.

It always did. Love made otherwise intelligent beings act irrationally, make foolish decisions, risk their lives for unequal gains.

Love was a power He knew not, and a power He was very glad not to possess.

And yet, love did give strength.

He'd seen fathers throw themselves into burning buildings simply for a chance to rescue their loved ones, mothers sacrifice their lives in the hopes of saving their children.

He'd seen people hold out under torture long after they should have been broken.

Love could certainly force someone to cast aside immortality.

 _'Yes. I will have to be extremely cautious about this. I cannot allow Harry to even entertain the idea of turning on me. I cannot give him any motivation to betray me.'  
_

It bit at Him, the idea that He could be threatened by another.

' _And yet, even I am bound by fate. At least, for now. One day I shall rule that as well.'_

He gazed upon the stars, comfortable in the knowledge that all that existed would one day be His.

The idea of simply allowing the rebels to escape and thereby ridding His Empire of their treacherous ideals did not even occur to Him.

They existed, and they would be subjugated by Him.

As simple as that.

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	14. Chapter 11—Backlash

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Chapter 11-Backlash

"The way to break the cycle is to kill every single one of the bastards that fucked you over. Every last one of them. Kill them all. Kill their mother, kill their brothers, kill their children, kill their dog."—Mark Lawrence—Prince of Thorns

* * *

 _17 May 2028_

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters_

The Dark Lord was completely silent and utterly still while Harry gave his report.

A heavy silence fell once Harry had finished talking, an oppressive thickness in the air.

"The terrorists will want to escape," the Dark Lord said, "they have managed to survive for all these years, they clearly are intelligent. They cannot possibly be foolish enough to believe that they could triumph over the Empire. Doubtless, they plan on travelling to one of these other worlds."

"That's what the prisoners seemed to believe, my lord."

The Dark Lord leaned forward, templing His fingers and staring into the distance.

"They will attack here. They will attempt to take the Department of Mysteries. We must be prepared, ready to strike the instant they arrive and capture them."

"We have a rough idea of their numbers, my lord. It seems that all together, there's around a thousand of them. That includes the goblins, the centaurs and Veela who've joined them, the Sasquatches, and their muggles."

"Vampires, Inferi, and Dementors," the Dark Lord said, focusing his gaze on Harry, "and all of our men in London and the surrounding areas. Have them prepared. They must be able to respond immediately."

"It will be done."

"What do we know about the terrorists' current location?"

Harry glanced at the parchment before him, more out of nerves than from a true need to confirm his information.

"We know that it's somewhere in South America. The witch who came forward and gave us the keys to their Canadian hideout, she had never been told precisely where in South America it was. She was certain though, that they don't have an organized group in Africa. She said that the attacks there were to throw us off of their trail."

"The Scamander children were in Peru. What further information do we have on them?"

"None, my lord," Harry said, "They've completely evaded us."

One of the Dark Lord's hands waved through the air in a negligent gesture.

"Their current location is immaterial. They will come to us. As we take away their safe places one by one, they are left with no recourse but a suicidal attempt at escaping. Nevertheless, continue offering the reward."

Harry nodded, making a small notation on his parchment.

"What of the identities of those who were in Canada?"

"We know who many of them are, my lord. The terrorists, they had operatives who lived in our society. They would provide supplies and information. We've got names for a bunch of them, but they managed to get away before we even went after them."

"Friends and families?"

"Our Toronto branch has been rounding them up. None of their close families were still available for capture, but they've left cousins, aunts and uncles, and siblings. They're in custody, under interrogation."

The Dark Lord sneered, His lipless mouth twisting into a horrific mask.

"They will know nothing. Those who knew anything were evacuated. I will execute them myself."

"As you say, my lord. We have lists of neighbours, of-"

"No. Only those who were family or known to be close friends. We have a fine line to tread."

He leaned back, still staring intently at Harry.

"They must know to fear us. They must also know to despise the terrorist, to understand that the terrorists bring nothing but death upon them. But if they are pushed too hard, they will not see it as a natural reaction to the terrorists' crimes. Push them too far, and they will believe us to be tyrants. Push them too far, and they will rebel. And yet, it cannot be left with no response."

"How do we ensure we're not crossing the line?" Harry asked.

The Dark Lord smiled, a sight almost as terrifying as His rage.

"Experience," He said, "experience and wisdom."

Silence fell upon them again.

"Your daughter," the Dark Lord said, "she is currently in St Mungo's, is she not?"

Harry swallowed thickly, a lump appearing in his throat as his apprehension grew.

"She is, my lord."

"Good. What is your plan if the treatment is unsuccessful?"

"I-we didn't have a chance to-to think that far, my lord."

"Now is your chance. She is a most talented witch. If the treatment fails, she is far too dangerous to keep there permanently. She would certainly escape. What will you do if they cannot heal her?"

The Dark Lord sounded almost bored, sounded as if he was honestly interested.

Harry, however, knew that if he answered incorrectly, he would witness the Emperor's fury.

His leg began to jitter uncontrollably, terrified energy needing a release.

"Daphne and I, we discussed Obliviating her, my lord. A total Obliviation."

"That could indeed work," the Dark Lord said thoughtfully. "That, or the Dementor's Kiss."

Harry's heart skipped a beat, his mind conjuring up images of Bella with sightless, empty eyes, a vacant shell of a body.

"If the treatment fails," the Dark Lord said, "I will allow you to choose for her, between Obliviation and the Kiss. Of course, with her having made Horcruxes, the Kiss could have...interesting results."

"The Healer in charge of her believes they will be successful," Harry said, his heart pounding, "so far, she said, they've seen positive signs."

"And I hope that only continues," the Dark Lord said smoothly, smiling at Harry, "nevertheless, plans must be made for terrible eventualities. Now, what of the Malfoy traitor?"

"We assume that he's with the terrorists, my lord. As I said, we know that he has...a relationship, with Dumbledore's Phoenix. Draco, he begged me to intercede, to have the boy placed in re-education. I told him that it was my lord's decision, not my own."

The Dark Lord stroked His chin, eyes distant again.

"Who know what poisonous instructions Dumbledore gave to the bird?" He murmured. "Truly, it is tragic, a child from one of our most illustrious families, his mind warped by the machinations of a fool long dead."

Harry waited, barely breathing.

"Enhanced by Dumbledore, the Phoenix all but controlled the poor boy's thoughts, forcing him to betray the Empire. Locked away inside his own mind, he raged and attempted to fight the bird. Alas, it was to no avail. Thankfully, our talented Healers were able to free him from his mental shackles."

"That-"

"Could only happen if the re-education works," the Dark Lord interrupted, "and if the brat talks about it afterwards, strictly toeing the line of what we want him to say. Make it clear to Draco that even this is only due to his family's exceptional service in the past, and is contingent upon their future actions."

"I will, my lord. Thank you. Thank-"

"I worry," the Dark Lord said, eyes boring into Harry, "that your emotions have led you to err."

"My lord, I assu-"

"The Scamander woman. She committed acts of treason in the past, acts that would have earned her a trip to Azkaban but for your intervention. You did not see the signs of your daughter's growing insanity. You had a traitor serving close to you, but your personal relationship with his family blinded you to any hints of his true loyalties."

Ashamed embarrassment began to burn its mark in Harry's belly, his innards starting to writhe in fear. He looked down, a blush spreading up his neck, his ears growing warm.

"You alone know how great the trust is that I have placed in you. I have given you power the likes of which no other has ever achieved. You are second only to me. I have trusted you, Harry."

The Dark Lord's voice dropped, becoming a silken whisper.

"I do not trust easily. Do not cause me to believe my trust was placed in error. Do not. Improve these matters, Harry."

The words, 'or else', hung in the air, not needing to be said, their absence more terrifying in a way then their presence would have been.

"Perhaps," the Dark Lord said, His voice returning to its normal pitch, "I acted unwisely in leaving the Empire so early in our reign. Capable though you are, there are still cracks in our control, elements that have not yet given themselves totally into our hands. Perhaps I should not have left, not while the terrorists are still free."

Harry didn't say anything. His heart had stopped racing, the promise of another chance blazing itself across his brain.

"Once we have eradicated them, then we can focus on spreading our rule. For now, we will destroy them entirely."

* * *

 _Bellona Potter_

The door swung open, Wentwick walking into her room with her gorillas.

"Good morning, Miss Potter. How are you today?"

She smiled at the woman, keeping her face in the vapid expression she adopted for the Healer.

"I slept better," she said, making it sound like the culmination of her life goals. "No weird dreams last night."

"Excellent," Wentwick said, drawing nearer with the goblet in her hands.

She pushed her head up expectantly, angling her chin so that she could drink while still lying down.

The potion poured into her mouth, numbing her momentarily.

 _'Let it not work,'_ she hoped, _'just a little bit longer, let it not work yet.'_

It took longer for her body to fight off the potion than it had the previous day.

The potion was definitely some variation of a Calming Draught. That was all she knew about it. That, and the fact that its effects were cumulative.

It was taking her longer and longer to deal with it. The first day, the effects had vanished from her mind within a matter of minutes, and the weakness in her muscles had been gone within the hour.

The second day, it had taken five minutes for her mind to be totally clear, and almost an hour and a half for her arms and legs to respond normally.

She knew it was only a matter of time until she'd be overwhelmed, her physical protections breaking down under the potion's constant onslaught.

 _'Just another day or two. That's all I need.'_

The charms on her were removed. She sat up slowly, allowing Wentwick to bind her hands and lead her to the couch.

"So, Miss Potter. Have you thought about what we discussed yesterday?"

She sat up in the couch, facing Wentwick.

"About things I enjoy?"

"Exactly. Have you had any ideas?"

"I used to...like drawing. Daddy would make the pictures come alive, and I used to have a lot of fun doing it."

It wasn't exactly a lie. Her parents had told her that as a child, she'd supposedly spent hours doing nothing but drawing, pouring different coloured inks onto the parchment.

She couldn't remember it, but they were insistent that she'd liked it.

"Did you know," Wentwick said, "that drawing can be very efficient in Mind Healing?"

Bella shook her head wordlessly.

"Really. Oftentimes we find it hard to express our feeling in words. With art though, we can sidestep whatever is blocking us. Would you like to try that?"

"I think... I think I would."

"Lovely! I'd like you to draw either way, but if you would be happy trying this out, it could be marvellous."

Her mind began to clear, the fog that had pervaded it disappearing.

 _'Only about ten minutes. Not too bad.'_

"I'll have a quill, inks, and parchment sent when I leave today," Wentwick promised, "and then if you draw anything today we could discuss it tomorrow. How does that sound?"

 _'Not as good as your screams will, whore.'_

"Good," she said, giving Wentwick a smile.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to talk about a few things that you said."

Bella shrugged, leaning slightly forward.

"You mentioned how your parents made you unable to feel anything. If I may ask, what precisely do you mean by that?"

Bella knotted her brow, leaning just an inch further.

Wentwick moved slightly back, maintaining the distance between them.

 _'Fuck. Not yet. She's still too wary.'_

"They just...they always encouraged it. They would take me to work with them...let me watch interrogations or training. If I was good...they'd let me play with our muggles. I thought...it was normal."

Wentwick didn't look taken aback by any of this. She just continued to smile, nodding encouragingly.

"I never...had friends of my age. I didn't realize that it was because they were scared of me. I thought...I was above them. I was always told how...special I was. I started to...believe it. That I was special, and that no one outside of the family was. That they weren't any better than muggles."

 _'Don't keep smiling at me, flobberworm-brained twat!'_

"Did you enjoy it?" Wentwick asked, "Hurting other people? Did you always enjoy it?"

"Always. More than anyone else. Daddy said that some people like the magic more than others. That it...depends on how young you started it."

"That's certainly true," Wentwick murmured, making a note on a piece of parchment. "Did any of your siblings show the same level of enjoyment from it?"

"Maybe...Hector. Not as much. He had friends."

"And why did having friends change how much he would enjoy doing it?"

 _'You really know nothing. God, I'm going to tear you to shreds.'_

"Because he had...other things he could like doing. I only...had breaking people. The more you do it, the more you train yourself to like it."

"So your appreciation of it increased?"

Bella nodded, feeling her neck and shoulders returning to normal, a heaviness vanishing from them.

It would take another hour or so until her legs were responding normally.

 _'Got to be tomorrow. Can't leave it too much longer.'_

"Tell me, Miss Potter. You said that your parents used to take you with them to work and would let you play with your muggles. Whose idea was that? Can you remember?"

"Mine...I guess."

"Interesting," Wentwick said, making another mark on her parchment.

Bella knew what the Healer was getting at. She was meant to believe that it wasn't her parents' fault, that she'd wanted it.

Utter bullshit. She'd been a child, barely able to make it through the night without pissing herself. Her parents were meant to be able to tell when she was starting to pick up bad habits.

They weren't meant to encourage them.

She continued answering Wentwick's questions, taking care to keep her voice soft and empty.

She tried to keep track of the time as she spoke, twiddling her toes to be able to tell when exactly they responded like normal.

She estimated almost one and three-quarter hours had passed from the time she'd take the potion until her toes felt normal again.

By then, her meeting with Wentwick was coming toward an end.

 _'Has to be tomorrow. Need to throw her off, make sure she's not suspicious.'_

"I'll have drawing supplies sent up shortly," Wentwick said as she stood. "I really think we're making wonderful progress. I must say, it's not often I have the pleasure of working with someone as intelligent and self-aware as you."

"Thank you."

"I'd like you to think more about what we discussed. Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Potter."

As Wentwick turned to leave, Bella spoke.

"Ann?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Would you-would you mind calling me Bella?"

Wentwick beamed.

"It would be a pleasure, dear. Have a lovely day, Bella. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32_

Peru was quite different to what Harry had been expecting.

To be fair, he hadn't had much time to think about what the place would be like.

If he'd had a chance, he'd probably have thought of something like the Scottish and Canadian hideouts has been: underground tunnels, a buried city, something along those lines.

The Peruvian hideout was a city hidden in the midst of a dense forest.

Apparently, it had been the last refuge of the Incan Empire. After the Spanish had conquered, a group of Incan sorcerers had claimed it as their own, enchanting the city of Vilcabamba until no Muggle could possibly find it.

It had been a major location of magic, a place where wizards from all around the continent had congregated. It had become South America's centre of magical commerce, and the world's largest entirely magical community.

Eventually, however, Castelobruxo in Brazil had grown, going from a small school to one larger even than Hogwarts. Slowly, people had moved out of Vilcabamba, preferring to settle nearer to where their children would be studying.

Or so Harry had been told, over the last few days.

The Peruvian rebels were extremely proud of their hideout. Harry would be too, if he was one of them.

They'd cordoned off a part of the ancient magical city, covering it with dozens of enchantments. It had a Fidelius, of course, but it also had enough protective spells to withstand a small army.

Unlike in Canada or Scotland, most of the rebels in Peru were witches and wizards. Almost all of them, in fact. Out of the five hundred or so rebels there, four hundred and fifty were witches and wizards.

The hideout itself was simply a small city, surrounded on all sides by forest. The buildings were uniform, single or double floor brick and mortar houses.

There were always people on patrol, walking right at the edge of the forest with wands drawn and serious expressions.

It felt peaceful. Safe.

Of course, it was all an illusion.

No matter how well protected it was, once the Death Eaters found out where exactly it was, they'd come with a large enough force to overwhelm any defences.

It would be a bloodbath.

Luckily, the rebels recognized this.

Harry shifted in his seat, gripping Hermione's hand.

It was nothing short of a miracle, how well she was doing. After an ordeal like she'd been through, he wouldn't have been surprised if it would have taken her another week to be able to get out of bed properly, to stop hiding away from the world.

Apparently, she was braver and stronger than even he gave her credit for. She'd asked to come with today, to the meeting with the rebellion heads.

The house they were in looked no different to any of the others, at least, if he could have ignored the guards outside and the extra defensive charms on it.

They were sitting in an enormous room, far larger than the house looked capable of containing from the outside.

Almost all the rebel leaders he'd met were there, seated or pacing around the room.

It hurt a little, not to see Alaloke's face. The Sasquatch had been someone Harry was sure could have been a friend, had they gotten to know each other better. Serena the Veela, on the other hand, had been a stuck-up bitch, even by Veela standards.

He still wouldn't have wished her to die.

Luna and Rolf weren't there either.

Their sons were, but they weren't.

Harry's stomach did a flip, his hand tightening instinctively on Hermione's as he thought about it.

Ginny was dead. His Auror counterpart wasn't taking it too well. Harry had tried to speak to him and had sported a black eye for several hours for his trouble.

Honestly, his alternate was taking it better than he would have. As much as he didn't want to think about it, he knew how crazy he'd been when Hermione was captured, how much worse he'd have been if she were actually taken forever from him.

He looked around the room, trying to distract himself from his thoughts.

The other Hermione was there, her hands clasped together tightly, her face drawn.

Ron hadn't been able to come. The Healers were working on him again, worried about a resurgence of some infection they'd thought they'd dealt with.

She looked ok, though. Exhausted, anxious, terrified, but ok.

Severus was there too, talking to some Peruvian wizard. Apparently, Alexander Alvarez was the most famous Potioneer in their world, and in this one too. Severus had damn near had an aneurysm when he'd discovered the wizard was on their side. The two had been all but inseparable since, only leaving Alvarez's potions lab for meals, which were held in an enormous communal cafeteria.

Scorpius was there as well, with Fawkes perched on his shoulder. If it didn't enrage Harry, he might have found it funny, how Hermione and Scorpius kept flinching when they looked at each other.

But he knew why they did. The night before, Hermione had told him what Scorpius had done, sobbing as she described how he'd held her under the Cruciatus for long enough that the depraved version of him thought she'd lost her sanity.

Spy or no spy, the only thing holding Harry back from tearing Scorpius' head off was the fact that he'd brought Hermione back.

"Silence, please."

Conversation stopped around the room, all faces turning to the wizened witch sitting on a comfortable looking armchair.

Her name was Alessandra, and the rebels in Peru viewed her as the next best thing to a god. She'd been the one to organize the resistance, doing much of the warding and enchantments herself. She'd led countless raids and attacks on Death Eaters facilities, and most importantly, had managed to keep her people safe since the Empire's founding.

"Our only option is to travel to one of these alternative worlds," she said, her accent making her words sound exotic and exciting, "there is no point in waiting. We go tomorrow."

The rest of the rebel leaders nodded, looking grim and determined.

She focused on Hermione, her beady eyes darting between his Hermione and the other one.

"In your worlds, you were studying this device. Would either of you know how to activate it?"

The other Hermione didn't move, but his one stirred, squeezing his hand as she faced the staring crowd.

"I know that it requires a human sacrifice. I don't-don't know any more specifics."

"Scorpius," Alessandra said, turning to face him, "do you know anything about it?"

"No. I wasn't ever involved with the Unspeakables. I saw some of Rookwood's notes, but it was all technical language. I didn't understand any of it."

"How is your Legilimency?" Alessandra demanded, turning to Hermione again.

"It's-it's passable."

"Examine his memories of the notes he saw. Anything we can understand before we are in the moment will only help us."

Her hand tightened on his, the grip all but stopping his blood flow.

"I-I don't-"

"I'm sorry," Alessandra interrupted, "but we have no other option. This is a necessity."

He felt Hermione twitching beside him, longed to shout at the heartless witch, to vent his fury.

But she was right.

 _'It has to be done. And Hermione's the only one who has a chance of understanding it.'_

"Our only real hope is to capture Rookwood or one of his underlings," Alessandra continued, "to force them to tell us what needs to be done. Scorpius, what is the likelihood that he will be in the Department tomorrow?"

Scorpius shrugged. "He'll be there unless he's been summoned to-to my uncle, or to the Emperor. The man's a workaholic, he barely ever leaves his lab."

"Good. And there is our chance. Tomorrow, we attack. One last throw of the dice. I will address our people as a whole today. I would like all of you," she glanced at the other rebel leaders before continuing, "To speak to all of your people. To warn them of what is to come, and to encourage them to do what we need for a chance at survival."

Her eyes pierced Hermione again.

"Let us know everything that you discover. We may very well be counting on you."

Hermione's gulp was loud enough for him to hear, but somehow, somehow she still sat up straight, looking fearlessly ahead.

* * *

 _Hermione Potter_

She breathed deeply, holding the air in her lungs and focusing intently.

 _'I will not freak out. I will not!'_

"I'm here, love," Harry murmured, leaning over to her and whispering in her ear, "I'm here. You're doing great."

She managed not to shudder at the sound of his voice, so similar to that monster who'd tried his best to break her.

He'd come damn close, too.

If she hadn't been rescued when she was, if she'd spent another few days there, she didn't know what she'd be.

The Healers said that there had been curses used on her, curses that made time seem to dilate, that wrecked her ability to measure it. She'd only been in the monsters' custody for a week. She'd thought that it had been months. Another few days in their care, another few days that each dragged on for an eternity, and she'd have been broken.

 _'I owe him my life. I owe him my sanity. It wasn't his fault. He had no choice.'_

She was trying to avoid looking at Scorpius for as long as she could, trying to keep her eyes off of him until she'd have to enter his mind.

She knew that he had no choice. She knew that he hadn't wanted to hurt her, that he'd been forced to put the entire rebellion's needs above hers.

She knew all of that.

The knowledge, however, didn't stop her from wincing when she saw him. It didn't stop his voice echoing in her mind, or the phantom remembered pains from wracking her body again.

The knowledge did not counter that.

"You're doing great, love," Harry said, her Harry, not the monster who bore his name. "Whenever you're ready."

Scorpius stayed silent.

She kept breathing, kept her eyes resolutely shut as she tried to clear her mind, to banish her terror.

"If you want," Harry said, "I could-transfigure his face or something, make him look different?"

Scorpius made a soft noise of protest at that, Fawkes letting out a chirp.

"No," she said, making up her mind, "I need to do it. I need to face it."

She opened her eyes, turning to finally face Scorpius.

He was sitting in a chair a few meters from her, looking forward with a blank expression.

A shudder ran through her body, his cry _'Crucio!'_ ringing in her ears.

She stared him in the eye.

"Relax," she said, her voice somehow not coming out in a snarl, "this won't hurt. Think about Rookwood's notes. Legilimens!"

And then she was hurtling through the mess of his mind.

Thought and memories flew past her, emotions and feelings rushing up to greet her.

She forced her will to the surface, ordered his mind to divulge what he'd seen in Rookwood's notes.

And then she was seeing from his point of view, as he picked up a thick piece of parchment and scanned it.

She only had a few seconds to actually read, before he tapped the parchment with his wand, shrinking it and placing it in his pocket.

Then the memory changed. She was standing next to a desk, staring at the bound body in the chair with a mixture of pity and revulsion.

Her wand was rising, her self-loathing writhing within her.

"Crucio!"

"NO!" She shrieked, breaking eye contact and falling, her body heaving and shaking.

Hands gripped her, pulling her to her feet as she shivered, tears blurring her vision.

"I'm here," Harry said, and she almost screamed at the sound of his voice, "Breathe, honey. Breathe, relax. It's all right, it's not happening, breathe."

She did, obeying him mindlessly.

Slowly, her heart stopped pounding, the adrenaline and fear leaving her.

"I'm sorry," Scorpius babbled, "I didn't-"

"GET OUT!" Harry roared, his wand flashing at the edge of her vision.

There was the sound of hurried footsteps before a door slammed, and they were alone.

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

She almost burst out laughing, the absurdity of the question tickling her mind.

"I'm fine," she said shortly, "just-just give me a minute."

He did, continuing to rub her shoulder and mumble comforting nonsense.

"I didn't see much of the notes," she said, "he didn't look at them for long. But it needs a sacrifice. And there was something. I think it'll work. I think it'll take us back to our world, and the others to theirs."

"And the rebels?" Harry asked quietly.

"I think they'll just have to think about where they want to go."

She pulled away from him, her body shaking again.

"I don't know," she said, "I only saw it for a few seconds, there wasn't much-I don't know, and we're risking everything, and I don't know!"

He stared deeply into her eyes, keeping his hands on her shoulders.

"We're going to get Rookwood," he said, "and we're going to figure it out. It's going to be all right, Hermione. You don't need to know everything. It's going to be alright."

His earnest care made her voice catch in her throat, her attempt to explain dying before it could even start.

She couldn't explain. She couldn't explain that she needed to know, that it wasn't just a want or a desire, it was a deeply burning need. She couldn't explain that if she didn't know then anything could happen, then she couldn't prepare, she couldn't plan or be ready.

She couldn't explain, so she didn't even try.

* * *

 _Hector Potter_

"I believe you are to be congratulated," the Dark Lord said, "it was you who brought your sister in, was it not?"

"Y-yes, my lord," Hector said, anxiety rising within him.

It was always like that, talking with the Dark Lord. The man, if indeed He was still a man, exuded power, creating an atmosphere of subservience with His very presence. Standing next to Him, speaking to the ruler of the entire fucking planet, it always robbed Hector of his courage and self-confidence.

"Well done," the Dark Lord said, stroking His wand, "it is good to see that not all of my chosen are blinded by their emotions."

"Thank you, my lord."

"Tell me, young Director Potter. Do you think the Mind Healers will be able to treat her?"

"I-I can't say, my lord. I know very little about their work."

"I did not ask for a professional opinion. I asked what you, in your personal capacity as her brother thought. What do you think?"

Hector swallowed thickly, unable to lie, not to the Dark Lord. Not to the Emperor.

"I don't believe they will fix her, my lord."

"Oh?" The Dark Lord asked, sounding wryly amused, "and why not?"

"She's-she's always been broken. As far back as I can remember. When she could control it, it wasn't a problem. Now she's lost that control. I don't think that she'll be able to simply regain it."

The Dark Lord was silent for a minute before smiling at Hector and speaking again.

"As I already said: it is good to see that not all of my chosen are blinded by their emotions. Your service as Director of North America has been exemplary. No blame is attached for the terrorists' actions."

"Th-thank you, my lord."

"It appears the rebuilding has been proceeding smoothly," the Dark Lord said, glancing at the fresh marble on the New York office. "Come. It has been enough time for the men in Toronto to do their work."

"My lord? I thought-"

"It will do the men good to see you by my side," the Dark Lord said, "to ensure they are aware you still retain my favour."

The Dark Lord held out an arm, eyeing Hector expectantly.

With a surreal feeling encompassing him, Hector took His arm.

The Dark Lord spun, pulling Hector along with Him through nothingness.

Before he'd even begun feeling the disorientation of Apparition, they'd arrived.

They were in the middle of a large square in Toronto.

Death Eaters lined the square, keeping the crowd in line.

It looked like they'd brought out everyone who could fit, forcing them to come and watch the spectacle.

In the centre of the square there stood a line of stakes, a bound and gagged person hanging on each one.

Absolute silence greeted them, none of the hundreds of spectators saying a word.

The Dark Lord looked around for a moment before nodding and saying in a loud voice that echoed through the quiet crowd: "Your men have done well, Director. Only to be expected, from one as talented and loyal as yourself."

Feeling a blush rising, Hector bowed his head. "Thank you, my lord."

The Dark Lord's wand moved, just a fraction of an inch.

He rose into the air, graceful and elegant.

"I have never desired the deaths of any magical being," He said, His voice magnified tenfold "the blood of all witches and wizards is sacred. Have I not shown so, time and time again? I have done nothing but improve every single one of your lives. No longer do we have to hide, no more must we live in fear of the muggles discovering us."

Slowly, He revolved, the crowd flinching back wherever His gaze touched.

"We live in unprecedented wealth. Our numbers have swelled, hearkening back to the days before the muggles drove us into hiding. The standard of living has only risen, for each and every witch and wizard. Those who dwelled in small apartments keeping their magic a closely guarded secret, now have mansions."

His body turned, leaving Him to face the condemned.

"And yet," He continued, His voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "there are still those who desire nothing but the destruction of all we have built. Those who would rather we returned to the days when subhumans ruled the Earth. They speak nothing but lies. There have been no pointless massacres carried out by the Empire. The Empire does not wish to subjugate its citizens, rather to give them freedom. Watch, and see the just rewards of the terrorists. Mark this well. They bring nothing but death."

The Dark Lord turned His head, focusing on Hector.

He nodded.

Hector raised his wand, conscious of the hundreds of eyes boring into him.

"Incendio!"

* * *

 _Hermione Weasley_

"Please, Harry. Just sit down."

Harry ignored her, continuing to pace around the room and growl under his breath, bunching his hands into fists and then slowly releasing them.

Seeing Harry like this was almost bad enough to make her forget about Ron's situation. The Healers had gotten the infection under control before it could cause any more damage. But the next day they'd be travelling again.

The Healers said that Ron would be fine, that the travelling wouldn't create any further problems.

A part of her, though, couldn't stop thinking that they were lying, that they just wanted to make sure that she wouldn't cause any hassles.

Either way, she couldn't do anything about that. But here, with Harry, here was something she could do something about, something to escape her feelings of impotent powerlessness.

Harry had gone into a terrible state after what happened to Ginny.

They'd only managed to get him to leave her body's side the previous day.

Since then, he'd been alternating between sitting and staring blankly into space and pacing his room angrily.

"Harry, you need to listen to me."

He didn't stop, just carried on walking stomping around.

She sighed, standing up.

He hadn't spoken to anyone since arriving in Peru.

He hadn't eaten, and as far as she could tell, he hadn't slept either.

As he moved past her she struck, slapping him hard across the face.

He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her with a shocked expression.

"You need to listen to me, Harry. You need to snap out of this because otherwise you will die tomorrow."

"I-I-Ginny," He said, his voice broken and hoarse, "I just-"

"I know, Harry. I know. But you need to hold it off. Just till after tomorrow."

"I just-I keep-I want to kill them, Hermione. All of them. And then-and then it stops feeling real, and then it all comes crashing down on me. I can't-I can't-"

"You need to," she said, forcing her voice not to shake, "Harry, you need to be strong. We're going home tomorrow, and if you're not careful, things could go very badly for you."

"I don't care," he whispered "I can't-I can't believe we're going to make it, not after everything. They'll win-"

"They won't! Not if we do everything we can!"

He stared at her, misery painted in every line of his face.

"We have a chance. We can't give up, not now. I know it's terrible, I know it's unfair and it hurts. I know. But you need to put that all aside. For your children's sakes, if not your own."

A bit of colour returned to Harry's face, making her handprint stand out even more.

"James, Albus, and Lily. It'll be hard enough for them with-with Ginny gone," she said, "They'll need you. And they'll help you get through it. But you need to get to them first."

Harry started to cry, his body shaking with the force of his sobs.

She took him in her arms, holding him tightly as he wept on her shoulder.

Eventually, his throe passed. He pulled away from her, wiping at his face with a trembling hand.

"I-I needed that," he said, looking at the floor, "thanks, Hermione."

"Don't be a prat. You know that's what I'm here for, to knock some sense into you."

"Get through tomorrow," he said, speaking mostly to himself, "then I can-can let it hit me."

"Exactly. And we'll all be there for you, Harry. You know that. The whole family."

"Do you think-do you think they know?" He asked hesitantly, "back home?"

"They might. The Clock, it could-could show something."

He started tearing up again before shaking his head roughly and rubbing at his eyes furiously.

"I want to take her b-body home," he said, his voice trembling, "could you Tr-Transfigure her? Or-or shrink her, or s-something? So that we can-can have a funeral."

She nodding, somehow managing to hold back her own tears.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"I need to go," she said, "to get back to Ron. Alessandra, the leader here, she's going to be speaking in an hour or two. Come to it, ok?"

"I-I will."

"Good."

She hugged him again, pulling him close and holding him.

"Just hold it together for a day," she whispered, "Just a day, and then you can mourn and grieve however you need."

"I'll do my best."

"That's all you can," she said, separating from him and walking toward the door, "that's all anyone can do."

* * *

 _Rolf Scamander_

"Luna? Please, honey, talk to me."

Luna didn't respond. She just sat there, with the same vacant expression on her face.

"Come on, Luna. Please. Please."

Not a twitch. Not an ounce of movement.

He sighed, standing up.

She'd eat and drink if the food was forced into her mouth.

She'd close her eyes and appear to go to sleep if she was lain down.

Otherwise she just sat there, staring blankly ahead.

The Healers had nothing to say, of course. They'd tried drugging her, forcing Calming Draughts down her throat.

Lorcan and Lysander had each tried too, whispering to their mother and begging her to come back.

It hadn't worked.

When Luna was like this, nothing worked. Nothing except waiting for it to pass.

Rolf knew that all too well. He'd seen Luna in this state twice before.

Once, after she'd been forced to watch as the Death Eaters raped, tortured, and murdered Muggle children she'd tried to save.

The other time had been after she'd had to kill someone she liked, a co-worker who had figured a few things out and who seemed like he was going to turn them in.

It was Luna's defence mechanism. When everything got too much, when the world became a place she couldn't handle, she retreated.

She hid away in the deep recesses of her mind, staying there until she could come back out.

It had never taken more than a day or two.

He knew that if she could hear him, the words meant nothing to her. He knew that she would break out of it soon, probably before the next day, probably in time for them to try and escape.

He knew all of that, but he still couldn't stop himself from pleading with her to come back to him.

"Please, Luna. Please. We don't have time. Please, baby."

Movement.

Just a twitch, her eyebrows moving the barest fraction, her brow furrowing slightly.

Tiny, but still movement.

He realized he was holding his breath and exhaled.

"Come on, Luna. You're doing great. Just come back to me."

Her beautiful eyes filled with tears, beginning to overflow and trail their way down her cheeks.

"Please, Luna. Please."

Slowly, her face lost its vacant look, her eyes becoming less distant and focusing on him.

Her body shook with pent-up tears.

"R-Rolf?"

"I'm here, Luna," he said, hugging her tight.

"I saw-Ginny, she d-died, again. I saw her die again."

"I know. I'm so sorry, Luna."

"I-why do I always-always have to-have to see?"

He shook his head, unable to speak.

"It's not fair. It's not fair. I don't want to see anymore."

"We're getting out of here, love," he said, speaking through a blockage in his throat. "We're going to go to her world. It'll be better there. You won't have to see any more death. We're getting out of here."

"I don't think we will," she said, shaking like a leaf in his arms. "I think everyone will die, everyone except me."

"That won't happen. We're going to get out of here. You'll see. You just need a little bit of hope. Just a last bit."

"Hope died a long time ago," she whispered, "we've just been too stupid to realize it."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror_

He managed to somehow drag himself out of his room.

Everything felt dull around him, the pretty colours in the flowers and trees seemed muted, the faint trills of birdsong came to him as if through earplugs.

All the life he saw around him seemed to be mocking him.

Children ran through the makeshift streets, the sounds of their playing ripping at his heart.

It wasn't right, for everything to keep on as usual with Ginny dead.

The sun should have stopped in the sky. Time itself should have halted its endless march, if only to shown honour to the woman who had meant everything to him.

 _'Just keep it together. Just for a day, then I can break down. Just a day.'_

He was only just managing to keep his grief at bay.

Thoughts of Ginny kept popping into his mind.

He couldn't stop wishing he'd just gone with her and Luna.

He couldn't stop thinking.

All he could do was try to force thoughts of his children into the forefront of his mind.

It was working, at least enough to get him out of his room.

As much as Hermione was right, he didn't think he could do more than that.

He could try and push aside his grief and pain until he got home, but there was no way he'd be able to do anything about the empty hole slowly growing in his chest.

He followed the crowd, walking to what appeared to be some type of town square.

There was an old witch standing on a small podium at the front of the crowd.

After a while, the square became quite full, packed with a press of wizards, witches, muggles, centaurs, goblins, Veela, and Sasquatches.

 _'Looks like a thousand or so. This must be everyone.'_

"Good evening, everyone."

The witch's voice echoed throughout the square, cutting through all other conversations.

"By now, all of you know the plan. Tomorrow, we will attack the Department of Mysteries in London, and will make use of a device they have to escape this world, to travel to an alternate dimension."

From the crowd's lack of surprise, it seemed that she was right about them knowing the plan.

"We have no other choice. The Empire has discovered a way to break through the Fidelius. If we stay here, it will only be a matter of time until they find us. Scotland and Canada are already lost to us. If we stay, we will have to keep running, fleeing from hideout to hideout with the Empire's forces on our tail."

She paused for a moment, running her gaze over the assembly before her.

"Every one of us has dreamed of a life without fear. We have all longingly remembered the days before the Empire. Every one of us has wished for a life without war, without the constant slavery and atrocities surrounding us. And finally, after all these years, our wishes are within our grasp. We can have it. A world where we do not have to raise our children in fear, teaching them to protect themselves. A world where magical and Muggle governments work together. A world where there is peace. We have a chance for it."

Someone shouted something in a language Harry couldn't understand.

"Yes," she replied, "it is dangerous. I have never lied to any of you, and I have no intentions of starting to do so now. Our mission tomorrow will be very dangerous. We will be striking at one of the most protected buildings in the world. It is terribly dangerous. But it is no more dangerous than staying here will be."

 _'It'll be a bloodbath.'_

"The Empire," she continued, "has us outnumbered more than a hundred to one. They will very soon be able to enter our hiding places at will. Our mission tomorrow will be dangerous. But it will have rewards the likes of which we have only dreamt of."

"A world," she said, "where hope still lives. A world where we can be happy. A world where we can live, not merely survive. A world where people do not fear to say the Emperor's name, because there he has been dead for decades. A world of love and life and laughter. That is what we have been fighting for all this time. And that is what we will achieve tomorrow."

 _'We better get there. We had just better.'_

"Tomorrow, we will strike the enemy where they feel most powerful. Tomorrow, we will free ourselves of their shackles. Tomorrow, we will regain our freedom."

 _'I hope you're right,'_ Harry thought, his grief crashing down on him again. _'And if you're not, I hope Ginny hasn't had the chance to get too far.'_

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	15. Chapter 12—Sacrament

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Chapter 12—Sacrament

"What did you think it was about? Singing songs? Sooner or later it's all down to the blood."-Terry Pratchett-Carpe Jugulum

* * *

 _18 May 2028_

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32_

The gathering of all of the rebels made a very impressive sight.

They were all standing around in the large square where Alessandra had spoken the night before.

Everyone except the children was armed. The centaurs with bows, Sasquatches with axes and swords, the Veela all were already half transformed into their avian forms.

The Muggles were carrying guns, and everyone else had their wands drawn.

Hagrid towered above the crowd, his horned helmet making him look like a vengeful war god.

Only about a quarter of them, Harry included, were wearing goblin armour. Most of the armoured fighters were arranged at the edge of the crowd, standing in what would soon be the line of fire.

From his position near the centre of the square, it looked like an impressive body of soldiers.

He just hoped that it would be enough.

 _'This has to be enough. God, it has to.'_

A few people meandered through the crowd, handing out Portkeys as they went.

He turned, facing the small group behind him, catching Hermione's eye and smiling reassuringly.

He'd managed to get himself placed among the guard of the non-combatants. There weren't many non-combatant, only about thirty children, a similar number of people too old to fight, and a few wounded. The Healers were there too, but they had their wands at the ready. So did the elderly, in fact.

Everyone who was at all capable would fight.

Even then, victory was not guaranteed.

 _'If they're not expecting us, I'll eat my fucking wand.'_

A witch walked past, giving Harry a Portkey and guiding a few people around him to touch it as well.

"We will be arriving just outside the Department of Mysteries," Alessandra announced, her magnified voice filling the air, "and will immediately enter. The lobby is large enough to hold us all. We will stay there and hold the enemy off while strike teams A, B, and C search for the device we need. We may need to fight to enter the building. Teams D, E, and F will focus on those between us and the Department, with the assistance of those who will be searching for the device, while teams G, H, and I will defend us from those behind. The rest of us will proceed to the entrance, fighting as we need and ensuring not to create a stampede. Those guarding the non-combatants will also be helping to prevent a stampede."

She glanced at her watch and looked around the crowd, nodding to herself.

"The Portkeys will be activated in thirty seconds. Good luck, everyone."

Harry readjusted his grip on his wand, forcing his fingers to obey his commands.

 _'Any moment now.'_

Anticipatory nervous tension was building up in him, butterflies flapping their wings in his stomach.

He felt the tell-tale hook around his waist as the Portkey activated, whirling him around as it pulled him through nothingness.

His head shot around the instant his feet touched solid ground, frantically searching until his eyes came to rest on Hermione.

Then someone screamed, and frantic spellfire began to zip through the air.

The battle started.

Immediately, screams and hectic shouts filled the air.

The crowd moved forward, a press of bodies pushing toward the Department of Mysteries.

As they moved they spread out, and Harry got a clear view of what was going on.

The space they were standing in was much bigger than the one they'd left from.

The Department of Mysteries sat before them, flanked by other government buildings and winding alleyways. He'd heard about it, but it was still strange to actually see that in this world, the Department of Mysteries was its own building and not hidden below the floors of the Ministry. It was, in fact, where the Ministry of Magic was in his world.

It was a thick building, somehow looking taller than the one floor that it actually was, its shadow easily covering the entire thousand or so rebels standing in front of it.

He could make out a few bodies near the Department itself, evidently belonging to guards who had been taken by surprise.

The teams in charge of gaining them entry to the building were working on the doors, furiously casting spells at them.

More important than any of that, were the wizards and witches behind the rebels.

As Harry watched, one of them managed to Apparate away.

The others weren't so lucky.

No matter how well they'd been trained or how many battles they'd fought for the Empire, no one could possibly be prepared for the pure chaos of a thousand people arriving in front of them, many of whom immediately attacked.

"WE'RE ALMOST IN," someone shouted from up ahead, "COME ON! MOVE FORWARD SLOWLY!"

Other people echoed the orders, and the crowd continued to push forward.

He stood his ground, jutting out his shoulders and forcing them to move slowly around him until he was in line with Hermione.

"You ok?" He shouted, just making his voice heard over the roar of hundreds of shouted conversations.

She nodded, reaching out and taking his hand.

A pall fell over the sun, the light suddenly becoming muted and dull, the air becoming cold.

Someone behind them screamed, a wordless cry of pure terror.

The crowd _surged_ forward, people pushing everyone out of their way as they ran for their life.

He could feel it, the terror crushing them, the terrible hopelessness smothering them like a blanket.

Harry turned, holding Hermione's hand as tightly as he could with his one hand, raising his wand with the other.

He thought of the day James had been born, the feelings he'd had.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" He roared, hearing other voices doing the same.

A glowing silvery stag burst forth from his wand, charging straight through to the edge of the crowd, where the Dementors must have been.

Hermione raised her wand, teeth gritted.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" She shouted, and her otter appeared. It swam through the air, moving to where Prongs had gone, joining up with other Patronus' as it went.

There must have been a good thirty or so Corporeal Patronus' cast.

They still weren't enough.

The Dementors' effects were still reaching the throng, sending people fleeing forward, all the carefully planned formations forgotten.

Harry and Hermione were jostled and shoved, barely managing to keep on their feet as the people at the back of the mob abandoned thought and ran.

As the press of people thinned, Harry saw the Dementors.

There were thousands of them, a veritable army of rotting black cloaks. They hovered at the end of the road, just barely kept at bay by the Patronus' before them.

The Patronus' were holding them back, stopping the Dementors from making their way toward the rebel group.

They were holding the Dementors back, but they weren't managing to do any real damage to them.

As he watched, a Phoenix Patronus flew into the Dementor horde, sending dozens of them scattering.

But for every single Dementor that fled, another ten took its place.

"COME ON, HARRY," Hermione shouted, pulling him by the arm and breaking his horrified stare, "LET'S GO!"

They ran, catching up with the main body of rebels.

People started screaming.

Inferi were shambling their way out of an alleyway to the left of the Department of Mysteries. Hundreds of Inferi.

A series of loud cracks split the air and Harry turned, just in time to see a platoon of Death Eaters and soldiers appearing behind them.

He heard Hagrid bellowing, saw the half-giant launching himself right into the group of newcomers.

"ATTACK!"

The battle was well and truly on.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters_

Harry was with the Dark Lord in His throne room when there were a series of frantic knocks at the door.

The Dark Lord moved his wand an inch, the large oak doors flying inward.

Blaise ran into the room, falling onto a knee before the Dark Lord's throne.

He was out of breath, his face flushed with excitement.

"I'm-I'm sorry for-for interrupting," he said, gulping down deep lungfuls of air as he spoke, "the-"

"Breathe," The Dark Lord ordered, "And then speak normally."

Blaise obeyed, saying nothing for the next minute.

"The terrorists, my lord," he said when he finally recovered, "they've attacked the Department of Mysteries."

The Dark Lord rose with Harry hurriedly following.

"The Department's on total lockdown," Blaise continued, "but they were working on the doors last I heard. The Dementors are being kept away by Patronus', but the Inferi and vampires have started attacking and our men are making their way there."

"When did this begin?" The Dark Lord demanded, "and have we received any word from Rookwood?"

"I got the first message about ten minutes ago, my lord. I've heard nothing from Rookwood, but I was organizing reinforcements and coming here."

The Dark Lord nodded sharply and then stared into space for a moment before nodding again.

"I want everyone available there," He said, "everyone from within London and the surrounding areas. It is time to destroy the terrorist organization once and for all."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror_

He ran toward the Inferi, shooting a fireball ahead of him and spinning out of a Killing Curse's path.

It felt wrong, for his heart to be pounding and his body humming with life as he slashed his wand and wreaked destruction.

It felt wrong, but oh so right.

At least he knew how to kill Inferi. Dumbledore had given him an example he'd never forget.

"USE FIRE," He shouted as another useless cutting curse flew over his shoulder and tore a bloodless gash in one of the Inferius' chest.

He roared, waving his wand and raising a wall of roiling flames.

"USE FIRE! STOP WITH THE OTHER CURSES, JUST USE FIRE!"

A Veela jumped to his side, letting loose a screech that made his ears ache and starting to toss handfuls of flame at the oncoming Inferi.

 _'It's working!'_ He thought, watching as the Inferi slowly drew back from his fiery wall, _'it's actually working!'_

The sky grew dark, thick black clouds appearing from nowhere.

Thunder rumbled, and a stroke of lightning lit up his eyes.

The heavens opened, a torrential downpour flooding down onto them.

Strong winds blew, the rain starting to fly sideways in sheets that all but made him blind.

He waved his wand, tapping his glasses and face in quick succession and placing Impervius charms on them.

It didn't help. There was no more rain running through his eyes, but he still couldn't see more than a few meters ahead of him.

His fire began to shrink, the Inferi starting to move back toward them.

He slashed his wand angrily, forcing the fire to return.

The Veela screeched again, throwing back her head and throwing her hands forward, flames streaming from them.

A dark shape shot off of one the nearby roofs, barrelling forward almost too fast to see.

Whatever it was, it smashed into the Veela, throwing her into one of the buildings' walls with a sickening crunch.

He stumbled back, trying to track the thing.

Something flashed in his peripheral vision.

He spun, his jaw dropping as a witch behind him fell with a torn out throat.

"VAMPIRES!" He shouted, spinning back and conjuring a pile of stakes.

He saw movement again.

He dropped to the ground, slashing his wand and sending the stakes shooting forward.

Five of the stakes hit the mark, the rest flying off into the mass of Inferi.

A vampire appeared, going from a blur of speed to a pale man wearing a dark robe in an instant.

It dropped to the ground, its torso a pincushion.

By the time it had landed on the ground it had begun dissolving into ash, the howling wind blowing its remains away.

Another wizard behind him fell, his neck gushing torrents of blood.

The Inferi continued advancing, the remnants of his fires dying under the rain's powerful onslaught.

Someone knocked him aside.

The witch in charge of Peru jumped forward, waving her wand in a strange pattern and incanting in a reedy, sing-song voice. Two wizards ran to her side, casting shield charms and sending tongues of flame at the Inferi.

Alessandra's voice reached a fever-pitch.

She howled, slashing her wand forward.

The clouds vanished, bright sunlight shining down on them.

A vampire appeared near one of the buildings, its face blistering up and its legs on fire.

Alessandra wasn't finished.

She waved her wand around her head like a lasso, ending with a sharp downward slash.

It began to rain again, only above the Inferi.

The Inferi began to screech, harsh screams that made fingernails on a blackboard sound like an orchestra in comparison.

Every drop that hit them set them aflame.

"COME ON," she shouted, "WE NEED TO HELP THEM AT THE BACK!"

She ran, her bodyguards with her and Harry following.

A triumphant shout sounded over the din of the fight.

"WE'RE IN! WE'RE THROUGH THE DOORS!"

The rebel army surged forward, people shouting as they pushed through the doors.

And the ground shook, enormous cracks appearing in the cobblestones and growing.

A magnified voice sounded, easily heard above the screaming of the fight.

A voice that had haunted Harry's dreams for years.

"SURRENDER OR DIE!"

"Oh god," the wizard next to him said, his tone one of utter horror, "it's him. Oh god, the Emperor's here."

* * *

 _Bellona Potter_

"This is a very interesting picture," Wentwick said, "I'd like to hear what you think these little flowers symbolize."

Bellona leaned slightly further forward, looking down at the picture on the little desk.

Her legs had started feeling like normal a few minutes before, her muscles responding as they did without the effects of the accursed potion.

The drawings had proven to be a great way of distracting Wentwick, allowing Bella to slowly inch her way closer to the Healer.

She'd put a lot of effort into them, the day before. She'd thought and thought before drawing, making sure that the images she poured onto the parchments would be ones that Wentwick would have no choice but to find tonnes of symbolism in.

It was working.

The current drawing that they were looking at was of a little girl plucking flowers, an expression of joy on her face.

The flowers' torn stems were spraying blood into the air, splashing onto the little girl's face and sunflower dress.

She dipped her head just a bit further, her heart beginning to race.

"I think...they're the people I killed."

"Why are they flowers?"

 _'Now.'_

She struck, moving her head like a snake and latching her teeth onto Wentwick's neck.

The Healer started struggling, her body spasming as she tried to move her hands.

 _'Die, bitch! Fucking die, you stupid cunt!'_

She ground her teeth together, Wentwick's blood spraying into her mouth, an odd keening noise erupting from the Healer's mouth as she tried to scream.

Bella bit as hard as she could before ripping her head back, something thick and slimy caught in her teeth.

She jumped to her feet as Wentwick fell off of her chair, still trying to grab her wand with trembling hands.

Bella brought her foot down with as much force as she could, smashing Wentwick's face underfoot.

Blood ran down her chin as she kicked again and again, crushing Wentwick's head against the floor.

She kept going, raising her foot and smashing it down repeatedly, a reddish haze coating her vision.

 _'Lock me up? Try to fix me? You stupid fucking bitch!'_

At some point, Wentwick died.

Bella didn't know when exactly it happened. All she knew was that there was no longer anything solid between her foot and the floor and that her hands were no longer bound.

She looked at the pulpy mess on the floor, the mashed brains and skull sitting atop Wentwick's torn neck.

She squatted, picking up Wentwick's wand with a giggle.

It didn't feel like it liked her much. It felt unhappy to simply be in her hand.

"I killed your mistress," she whispered, raising it and aiming at the wall where the hidden door was, "you are mine now. You will obey me."

She slashed the wand, and the wall exploded.

 _'I'm going to kill them all,'_ she thought, as she calmly walked toward her makeshift door, _'every fucking last one of them. Kill them all.'_

With the Mark on her wrist, finding them wouldn't be a problem at all.

* * *

 _Hermione Weasley_

Hermione almost died the instant that she entered the Department of

Mysteries. She was one of the first in, having been part of the group that would be searching for the device. They'd all been at the front of the rebel mass and had been the ones who'd torn down the protective enchantments on the doors.

If not for the mad rush forward that had started as soon as the doors opened, she would have died.

She was pushed from behind and fell, just managing to throw herself to the side within the Department.

As she fell, a Killing Curse shot through the air, taking down the wizard behind where she'd been standing when the doors opened.

The Unspeakables were waiting for the rebels.

A thick line of them stood in the back of the lobby, distorted by the shield charms before them, casting deadly spells at an alarming rate.

She scrambled to her feet, ducking and running behind the safety of a pillar to her right.

The rebels continued pouring into the building, attacking as much as they could.

It wasn't much. They were being stampeded from behind and attacked from in front.

Slowly, however, the greater rebel numbers turned the tide, the Unspeakables falling to harsh curses.

She tried to move out from behind the pillar, only for a Killing Curse to flash toward her.

She pulled back behind the pillar, bits of marble flying into the air, her heart racing.

 _'Need to do something. Can't just hide here, need to do something.'_

She tapped her head with her wand, Disillusioning herself.

Sweat made her wand slippery in her wand.

When she couldn't even see her own arm she walked out from behind the pillar.

No spells flew her way.

She couldn't see Rookwood standing among the Unspeakables.

There weren't many Unspeakables still standing, only maybe twenty left.

Visions of Ron flashed before her eyes as she raised her wand, Ron as he'd been when Scorpius had rescued him.

She selected a target, gritting her teeth as she took aim.

 _'Imperio!'_

Whoever her target was, he fell under her curse easily.

 _'Attack your companions!'_

His mind rebelled against her order, his arm shaking as he pulled his wand to the side.

 _'Kill them!'_

A commotion broke out in the line of Unspeakables.

She didn't watch, just chose another target, nausea rising within her.

 _'Imperio! Kill your companions!'_

She vomited after the third one.

By the time she'd wiped her mouth and raised her head, there were no Unspeakables left standing.

The rebels were still pouring into the building, shoving and pushing and trampling bodies underfoot as they entered in a frenzy.

She removed the Disillusionment Charm and ran forward, trying to find the rest of her squad.

She couldn't see Ron anywhere. It looked like the carefully planned order had fallen to bits in everyone's panicked run.

 _'Can't look for him now. Can't. Have to find it. Have to find it.'_

Tears running down her face, she ran toward the bowels of the Department of Mysteries.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32_

The battle was chaos on a level Harry had never experienced before.

He stood there, Hermione's hand clasped in his, pushing and shoving at the press of people.

Spells zipped through the air, bodies falling wherever they found flesh.

Explosions kept sounding, people flying through the air as the ground they were standing on blew up.

The sound of machine gun fire was constant, the muggles doing whatever they could to attack.

He could barely get a clear enough view to actually cast a spell at anyone. Every time the crowd cleared enough for him to see the enemy, they pressed back together after a few seconds.

Rancid smoke filled the air, mingling with the screams of the dying.

A curse hit the wizard to his right, dropping him with a broken neck.

He spun his head around, searching for the attacker.

A jet of emerald light missed his right shoulder by less than an inch, throwing up green flames where it hit the ground.

He shot his attention upward, frantically wiping the blood off of his helmet's visor.

After a second, he saw them.

A group of witches and wizards on brooms, flying through the smoke above the rebel mass and shooting spells carelessly into the crowd.

"THEY'RE IN THE SKY," he yelled, slashing his wand and knocking one of them off of their broom, "LOOK UP!"

One of the fliers swooped low, waving their wand in a wide arc around their head.

A goblin decked in full battle armour burst into the air like a torpedo, barrelling higher than Harry would have thought possible.

He slashed his axe as he drew even with the flier, splitting his head and sending a rain of blood onto those on the ground.

 _'Holy shit!'_

"HELP ME," He shouted, waving his wand and sending a gale-force burst of wind through the air, "WIND SPELLS!"

He heard Hermione incanting, her hand tightening on his own as she raised her wand.

"WIND SPELLS," he repeated, "EVERYONE WHO CAN, FUCKING CAST WIND SPELLS!"

The wizards and witches around them must have listened. Less than a minute passed before winds the speed of a hurricane were blowing, dispersing the smoke and sending the broom squad smashing into the ground.

The crowd opened for a moment, giving him a view of the Death Eaters.

Hundreds of them, shooting off spells non-stop.

He bellowed, slashing his wand and raining a series of lightning bolts onto the Death Eaters.

The crowd started moving forward, people clamouring as they pressed toward the Department of Mysteries.

Someone knocked over Hermione as they ran, ripping her hand from his.

He reacted instinctively, throwing up a Shield Charm before she could be trampled.

"COME ON," He shouted, pulling her to her feet, "THEY MUST HAVE GOT THE DOORS OPEN, WE NEED TO MOVE."

Then everything went mad.

Something enormous exploded behind them, sending dozens of rebels flying through the air.

His Protego shielded them from the worst, but he and Hermione were still thrown to the ground.

An earthquake started, huge deep cracks appearing as the ground tore itself apart.

He just managed to roll out of one of the tears' path, jumping up and pulling Hermione off of the ground again.

A terrible voice ripped through the air, high-pitched and infuriated.

"SURRENDER OR DIE!"

Another explosion sent him and Hermione flying through the air.

He landed on his belly, the air knocked out of him.

He just managed to find his feet and take Hermione's hand, urgently casting another Shield Charm as they rose.

Fear bubbling up within him, he turned his head.

Easily visible through the holes in the once tightly packed crowd, Voldemort stood, with Harry's demented counterpart by his side.

* * *

 _Hermione Potter_

She almost broke down when she saw him.

He was standing next to Voldemort, his wand flashing almost as quickly as his master's.

She didn't have eyes for the catastrophic magic Voldemort was hurling at them, barely noticed the screaming swarm of rebels streaming toward the Department of Mysteries.

No, she could only see him.

He seemed to grow, filling her whole range of vision.

Her throat closed up, her heart beating a frenetic drumroll in her chest.

He was going to take her back. She knew it as much as anything she'd ever known.

He was going to take her back and he was going to keep her until she was truly nothing, until he'd tortured every drop of independence out of her.

He was going to keep her until nothing remained of Hermione Jean Potter.

Her legs stopped moving, suddenly heavy as rock.

Her Harry gripped her arm hard, and she screamed as he pulled her.

"WE NEED TO GET TO THE BUILDING," he roared, "HE'S TOO MUCH TOO HANDLE!"

She let him drag her along, almost too frightened to breathe, the shrieks of the wounded ringing in her ears, and the face of this world's Harry Potter filling her mind.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror_

The Voldemort in this world was far worse than he'd been in Harry's own.

As Harry ran with Alessandra and her bodyguards, he saw destruction being wreaked on a scale he'd never even thought was possible.

The cracks in the ground widened, well on their way to becoming chasms.

He ran, bodies flying through the air towards him, ducking and weaving through spellfire.

"HELP US," Alessandra cried, pulling a group of armoured goblins into their wake, "ALL OF YOU, HELP!"

An enormous fireball shot through the air, singeing Harry's hair as he just managed to dive out of its path.

They drew nearer the front.

A few muggles joined up with them, slinging automatic weapons with desperate expressions.

Another fireball came, sending their group scattering.

Harry dove out of the way, knocking into his alternate and Hermione.

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING?" The other him yelled.

"COME ON," He roared back, "WE NEED TO HOLD HIM BACK FOR A BIT!"

"YOU-"

"YOU CAN USE FIENDYRE! WE NEED YOU!"

"GO!" Hermione shouted, tearing her arm from his alternate's grasp, "I'LL GET TO THE DEPARTMENT, JUST HELP THEM!"

The other him just stared at her for a moment, looking helpless.

 _'At least he still has-"_

He cut the thought off, grabbing his alternate's arm and pulling him out of the path of a jet-black curse.

"COME ON," he shouted, pulling him and running.

They re-joined Alessandra, jumping over holes in the ground and piles of bodies.

"KEEP HIM DISTRACTED," Alessandra called, "I JUST NEED TIME TO PREPARE!"

"PREPARE WHAT?" His alternate shouted.

But there was no time for an answer.

They cleared the last few fleeing rebels, and finally came within view of Voldemort himself.

Harry's heart nearly stopped.

Voldemort looked exactly the same as he had in Harry's world.

Exactly the same, and yet, even more terrifying.

The version of Harry from this world was standing next to him, attacking with almost as much fury as his master.

Voldemort's wand was moving almost too fast to see, a hectic flurry of spells flying from it.

The goblins were attacking him.

None of them got within a few meters of him, their armour exploding and knocking them back as Killing Curses erupted against them.

The muggles opened fire, the thunder of their guns filling the world.

Their bullets came within a few meters of Voldemort before flying away, barrelling into the air away from him.

The Harry beside Voldemort bellowed, waving his wand toward the muggles.

The ground beneath them opened, their screams filling the air as they fell into the belly of the earth.

Harry's alternate slashed his wand, screaming as he launched cursed monstrous flames at the two of them.

Voldemort did...something.

As the Fiendfyre launched itself at him and the Harry from this world, his wand waved through a strange motion that made it seem for a second as if it had moved through itself.

As if a black hole had been opened, the Fiendfyre collapsed onto itself, diminishing and somehow growing brighter until only a speck that glowed like the sun was left.

Voldemort jabbed his wand forward, shooting the minuscule, blindingly bright speck at the group of oncoming goblins.

The world turned red, the air itself feeling like it had been set aflame.

Harry lay there, blisters appearing on all of his exposed skin, his clothes growing hotter and hotter.

His alternate's armour exploded off of him, landing in a ruined pile between them.

Voldemort waved his wand again.

An enormous wall of earth rose before them.

Harry's mind went blank, the absolute certainty of his approaching death ending all possibility of rational thought.

The wall of earth shot forward, a tidal wave of rock and soil.

Alessandra shouted, an ululating cry in some language Harry couldn't even recognize.

Everything went white.

"RUN! RUN, RUN, RUN!"

He got to his feet shakily, Alessandra's voice filling his ears.

The space between them and Voldemort was full of some mysterious thick creamy-white fog, strange shapes just barely visible as they writhed within it.

"RUN! IT'LL TAKE HIM A FEW MINUTES TO REMOVE IT! RUN!"

He shook his head as he followed her orders, grabbing his alternate off of the ground as he went.

The ground between them and the Department of Mysteries was littered with torn and ruined bodies, pungent smoke rising off of many of them.

Some of them weren't even dead.

As he ran, Harry knew that if he survived this he'd never be able to forget the terrible sounds the wounded had made, the begging cries and horrific noises.

He couldn't help them. If he was still out there when Voldemort broke through whatever Alessandra had done, he knew he wouldn't survive more than a few moments.

He ran, keeping his eyes set on the wide open doors before them, on the figures standing there and frantically waving them in.

He and his alternate barrelled through the doors, the people there swinging them shut the instant they entered.

"BARRICADE THE DOORS," Alessandra shouted, "EVERYONE WHO CAN FIGHT, FORWARD! THE REST OF YOU GET BACK, RAISE AS MANY SHIELDS AS YOU CAN!"

He caught one confused glance of the surviving mass of rebels, most of them moving further back and waving their wands, swords, bows, and guns.

Then he was turning back to the doors, raising his wand and incanting as quickly as he could.

Alessandra took his side, waving her wand and sending a mass of crisscrossing blue lines at the doors.

"Will it hold him?" He asked, chest heaving as he took deep breaths.

"Not for long," she answered grimly, "nothing will hold him off for long."

* * *

 _Severus_

A group of Centaurs ran past him, arrows notched in their bows.

The sounds of the mass of rebels filtered in from above, muted by the layers of ground between them.

He and the men by his side stopped outside a closed door.

There were three of them: him, a Muggle, and another wizard.

The Muggle took a few steps back, raising his gun.

He and the wizard took position on either side of the door, half-crouching.

After a moment, the Muggle nodded.

He acted immediately, blasting the door with a powerful explosive hex.

It shattered, sending splinters of wood flying every which way.

A bright red spell shot from the room, slicing the Muggle through at the waist.

Severus gave a yell, him and the other wizard both casting furiously into the room as the muggle's body fell backwards with its innards unspooling.

He heard a loud crash from the room, and carefully poked his head around the corner.

The room was wrecked, dozens of oddly shaped metallic devices lying haphazardly on the floor.

The desk had exploded and a wizard lay groaning on the floor, his wand nowhere to be seen.

"I'll check him," Severus said, walking into the room, "guard the door."

His companion nodded, turning to face the corridor.

Severus stalked forward, eyeing the moaning wizard warily.

 _'It's possible he has more than rudimentary Occlumency skills.'_

He stared down at the wizard, allowing his hatred and rage to fill him, letting his blood begin to boil.

He raised his wand.

"Crucio!"

The Unspeakable writhed, tormented screams tearing their way from his throat.

Severus held the curse for a minute, the wondrous feeling of pouring out his wrath consuming him.

He ended the curse and bent down in one fluid motion, gripping the Unspeakable's drool coated chin and lifting his head.

Gazing into the wizard's eyes, Severus incanted again.

"Legilimens!"

He swam through the Unspeakable's mind, pulling the desired memories to the surface, watching as Rookwood explained his understanding of the artefact.

He looked through the Unspeakable's eyes as he read report after report, as he learned about the artefact.

He broke eye-contact, breathing heavily.

"Any luck?" His companion called from the doorway.

Severus stood bent over for a moment, hands on his knees, mind reeling.

"Did he know anything?"

"Yes," Severus said, straightening up, "he knew. Not enough, but he knew."

"Then come on. Deal with him, and let's go help the others."

Severus slashed his wand, slicing neatly through the Unspeakable's throat.

Then he ran, the sounds of shouting and fighting pulling him towards another room further down the corridor.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters_

The Dark Lord gave a final flourish with His wand and the fog vanished.

Across the field of corpses, the Department of Mysteries stood, its doors once again resolutely shut.

The Dark Lord slashed His wand yet again and the ground began to move, the holes in the earth closing as it healed itself.

Harry turned, facing the line of men behind him.

"I want three squads heading round the back, to start tunnelling in. Go through the walls, and make it as quiet as you can. The Dementors will go with. The rest of you, with us."

As he turned back towards the Emperor, a curse shot through the air, missing him by the tiniest fraction of an inch.

He spun around, searching frantically for the caster.

Another spell appeared, slicing right through one of his men.

"IT CAME FROM OVER THERE," Blaise shouted, sending a Killing Curse in that direction.

The next curse just missed Blaise, taking the wizard beside him in the face and tearing his head apart.

The crack of apparition split the air, another curse appearing from the opposite direction and turning a witch into a mist of blood.

The mass of Death Eaters and soldiers turned warily, looking around with scared eyes.

The ground in the middle of a group of soldiers exploding, sending them all flying.

Another curse whizzed past Harry, cutting down a Death Eater.

The Dark Lord growled, waving His wand.

As the crack of apparition sounded again, a cold wind rose, blowing back Harry's hair and robes.

Harry just managed to raise the earth into a shield and block a Killing Curse flying at him.

"THERE!"

A figure had appeared, the Dark Lord's spell wiping away her Disillusionment.

Harry's heart twisted as she sent another Killing Curse at him.

He managed to dive out of the way, letting Bella's curse take out one of his men.

She Apparated, dozens of spells flying harmlessly through the air where she'd been standing.

"BELLA, STOP!" He roared, spinning around wildly and trying to find her.

He heard the Dark Lord snarling out the incantation for an Anti-Apparition Jinx, horrified fear filling him.

 _'Oh god, He's going to give her to the Dementors.'_

"LOCK ME UP, WILL YOU?"

Harry twisted, jabbing his wand furiously and vanishing the fireball that had been thrown at him.

"BELLA," he yelled again, still unable to see where she was, "ST-"

A wave of pure force cut through the air, knocking most of the men down.

Harry just managed to keep his balance.

The Dark Lord growled, moving his wand through a strange motion.

The ground began to writhe, monstrous shapes tearing themselves free from the earth.

Lions, bears, and wolves, all of them formed from stone and soil.

They ripped themselves from the ground, launching forwards with snarls and roars.

"This has gone on long enough," the Dark Lord said, his voice a furious knife, "decide her fate."

"I-"

One of the Death Eaters, a wizard named Jonas, suddenly spun around, raising his wand and attacking his fellows.

Before Harry even had the chance to react, a soldier followed suit.

 _'The Imperius!'_

A Killing Curse shot toward him, one of the Dark Lord's golems launching itself into its path and shattering.

The golems rushed forward, leaping over the soldiers and Death Eaters and running toward where Bella apparently was.

Another explosion, the golems shattering in mid-air and spraying the soldiers and Death Eaters with bits of earth.

"ENOUGH!"

A wave of enormous invisible force shot out with the Dark Lord's shriek, knocking everyone down again.

Harry raised his dirt-encrusted face, pulling himself to his feet with an intense effort.

Bella was standing there, the air around her having apparently solidified.

She looked terrible. She was coated almost entirely in blood, her eyes two fires.

She stood in what looked like a terribly uncomfortable position, her legs half bent, her neck to one side, her wand arm in the midst of lashing out.

She looked utterly insane.

Her eyes were frantically racing from side to side, her lips moving soundlessly.

Following the Dark Lord, Harry advanced on his daughter, trodding carelessly on a black-robed corpse.

 _'She just took out a quarter of our men,'_ he gibbered to himself, _'there's no way he'll have mercy. Fuck, oh fuck.'_

He still had to try. The middle of a battle or not, insane murderess though she was, she was still his daughter.

"M-my lord, I-"

A jet of what looked like water shot from her unmoving wand, her body immediately springing into motion.

Enormous hands formed from the earth, gripping her tightly around each of her legs and arms. He winced as they pulled sharply on her, the cracks of her breaking bones clearly heard over the sound of men recovering.

"I believe three squads were ordered to take the back of the building," the Dark Lord said loudly, "along with the Dementors."

The men shuffled, forming back into an orderly mass.

"Go," the Dark Lord said. "Now. The rest of you, begin dealing with the enchantments they've placed on the Department."

Slowly, the men began to move, the Dementors gliding silently forward.

"I SAID GO!"

They broke into a run, whooping war cries filling the air.

"I'LL JUST ESCAPE AGAIN," Bella screamed, tears streaming down her face, "AND I'LL KILL YOU ALL! I'LL-I'LL SHOW YOU-YOU'LL SEE, YOU'LL ALL SEE!"

She began to laugh raucously, cackling with her head thrown back.

"YOU CAN'T KILL ME," she screeched, "YOU MADE IT SO THAT YOU CAN'T! YOU CAN'T KILL ME! BUT I'LL FIND A WAY! I'LL RUIN YOU, I'LL-"

The Dark Lord's wand slashed through the air, her mouth continuing to move but no sound coming out.

Distantly, he could hear his men shouting as they began to tackle the terrorists' hastily created defences.

 _'I need to do something. I need to do something!'_

"My lord, I-"

"This is what comes of love," the Dark Lord snarled, staring directly at Bella, "See what you have allowed?"

"My lord, pl-"

"She has distracted us long enough. Choose. Dementors or Obliviation."

As if from a distance, he felt his wrist tingle, a sense of Daphne accompanying it.

 _'Bella must have contacted her.'_

"We have no more time. Every second we spend here gives the terrorists time to find the artefact." the Dark Lord said, "Choose."

It wasn't a choice, not really. Leaving his daughter soulless or having another chance?

It was no choice.

"Obliviation, my lord. I must apologize, I-"

Ignoring him, the Dark Lord strode forward, placing the top of the Elder Wand against Bella's writhing forehead.

"Obliviate!"

* * *

 _Hermione Weasley_

She ran through the last set of doors, following the centaurs and wizards before her.

One of the centaurs fell immediately upon entering the room, his head suddenly encased in a block of ice.

The others all attacked, firing their bows as the wizards let loose a stream of colourful jets.

An additional centaur and three wizards were killed before whoever was in the room was disarmed, their wand flying right over Hermione's head.

She pushed her way into the room and stopped with a gasp.

It was the Mirror Room, the artefact sitting on its pedestal on the table drawing all eyes.

Rookwood lay next to the table, leaning against the wall, grievously injured.

There was an arrow through his chest and another one in his shoulder. His clothes and face were all scorched and cut from the breaking glass, and his fingers were bent oddly.

But he still breathed.

"Take the artefact," she said as she raised her wand, looking into Rookwood's eyes, "I'm going to-"

Rookwood smiled, baring his teeth in a feral grin.

With a sudden movement that was far faster than he should have been capable of in his injured state, he shot his hand up to his throat.

The piece of broken mirror sliced easily through his skin, tearing his jugular and carotid in a flash of reflected light.

Blood fountained from his ruined neck, his head lolling forward instantly.

None of them had a chance to react. By the time the incantations for a healing spell that could possibly deal with something that severe that surfaced in her mind, it was too late.

Rookwood was dead, and the information they needed had gone with him.

"I-g-grab the artefact," she said, "let's-let's go-go up."

 _'Fuck. I hope we've got captives. Oh god, I hope we have captives.'_

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Head of Task Force UX32_

"THEY'RE ABOUT TO BREAK THROUGH!" Alessandra cried, "READY!"

He shot a glance back to the wall of almost invisible shields behind him, catching Hermione's eye for an instant.

There seemed to be a commotion in the back of the crowd, people trying to get forward.

 _'They have it! They have it!'_

"READY!"

He raised his wand with a trembling hand, turning his attention back to the enormous doors.

They were starting to bend, the protective enchantments being torn apart.

Harry strengthened his resolve, hope burning its flame within him.

 _'Just need to give them time,'_ he thought, his wand creaking from the tightness of his grip, _'just hold them off for long enough to activate the fucking thing.'_

The doors _exploded_ inwards, bits of wood and metal hurtling through the air.

A dozen animalistic shapes shot into the room, flying straight at the rebels and attacking immediately.

He saw a stone bear running on its hind legs, its enormous arms lashing out.

He stabbed his wand forward, making a lion explode just before it could jump at him.

He was showered with dirt, his eyes tearing up from the onslaught.

 _'Fuck! If only I still had that fucking helmet!'_

He wiped his eyes frantically, clearing them and raising his head just in time to see Voldemort walk into the room, wand expelling curses with an insane rapidity.

Alessandra jumped forwards, howling and waving her wand.

One of Voldemort's curses hit her in the chest.

She dissolved, her body turning into dust and floating away.

One of her bodyguards bellowed, jumping forwards with a dozen men following him.

Voldemort faced them down with a sneer, wand flashing as he deflected their spells and killed them one by one.

 _'Now!'_

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" He screamed, the emerald curse flying true.

A pillar rose from the earth, blocking his attempt as Voldemort turned to face him.

He didn't even see Voldemort's wand move, didn't even hear the incantation.

He was thrown backwards, a sick pain rising in his chest.

And he could feel a wetness across his torso.

He looked down, everything growing faint around him, the screams of battle sounding as if they were coming from a distance, the light beginning to dim.

His chest and belly had caved inwards.

He could see his intestines snaking their way out of his belly.

"H-H-Herm-"

Everything went black.

* * *

 _Severus_

He heard Hermione frantically shouting her husband's name, and he knew what it must have meant.

 _'Feel later. Act now.'_

He ignored her grief, ignored the terrible screams from behind him.

He ran forward, to where he thought he had seen the other Hermione.

If he'd seen correctly, she'd been carrying the artefact.

He dared to take a look back, just for an instant.

Voldemort stood, easily visible through the cracks in the crowd.

He had men on either side of him, firing curses into the crowd.

But Voldemort himself was an army. He was decimating the rebel force, using none of the sleek and elegant curses Severus would have expected.

Instead, Voldemort flung pure destruction onto the rebels.

 _'Another few minutes,'_ the cold, analytical part of his mind thought, _'and he'll have us all. No more than ten minutes.'_

He ran, fingering the silver knife in his belt as he followed the mane of bushy hair through the near-solid mass of people.

The sounds of battle filtered in from up ahead, making him momentarily pause.

The entrance to the Department was behind him.

 _'Idiot! They've come in through the back!'_

A swarm of darkness appeared at the edge of the crowd, a thick wave of cold emanating from it.

His wand rose, memories of the greatest thing the world had ever offered filling his mind.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The misty doe burst forth, cantering in place for an instant before charging the Dementor horde.

He heard a snatch of Hermione's voice and pushed his way through the throng.

"WE DIDN'T GET HIM!" She was shrieking, waving her hands wildly, "I DIDN'T FIND OUT HOW-"

"I CAN DO IT," Severus roared, knocking a witch over in his rush to reach Hermione, his words all but swallowed up in the thunder of gunfire, "DID YOU GET ANY CAPTIVES?"

"YOU-"

"I KNOW HOW," he repeated, shooting a wary glance behind him.

There were far fewer people between him and the Dark Lord than had been when last he looked.

Ten minutes? More like three.

"WE NEED A SACRIFICE," he yelled, "THE REST IS CONCENTRATION."

"WE DON'T HAVE-"

A hand gripped his shoulder, pulling him around.

His wand shot up, an incantation dying on his lips as he recognized the face.

It was a Muggle woman, one of the sisters they'd rescued from the slave market what felt like ages beforehand.

"USE ME," she shouted, dropping her rifle to the floor, "PROTECT FAIZAH! USE ME!"

"FARAH, NO!"

She ignored her sister's yells, instead choosing to simply stare into Severus' eyes.

"IT MEANS YOUR DEATH," he yelled, ducking as a curse shot over his head, "THERE'S NO OTHER WAY!"

"FARAH," the sister shouted, trying frantically to grab her sister, the rocking motion of the crowd just preventing her from doing so, "FARAH, NO!"

Around Severus, Farah, and Hermione, an eddy of calm seemed to form. He barely noticed the wizards who formed a circle around the three of them, barely noticed the panicked crowd streaming to nowhere around them.

Her dark eyes filled up the world.

"SAVE FAIZAH! DO IT!"

"HERMIONE," he shouted, the floor beginning to shake under his feet, "BRING IT HERE!"

Hermione raised her hands, holding the artefact between them.

He heard Voldemort giving a triumphant yell, felt the air around him begin to solidify.

He felt his Patronus vanish, felt the icy cold return as the Dementors swooped forward towards him.

"Thank you," He whispered, staring right into those eyes.

Concentrating as hard as he could on returning home, on sending the other travellers back to their world and taking whoever wanted to go with, he slit her throat.

Hermione raised the artefact higher, angling it so that all of the blood splashed onto it.

And the artefact lit up as the runes began to change.

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Chief Auror_

He saw his alternate die, heard the other Hermione's heart-wrenching scream.

He barely had time to consider what had happened before a headless corpse smashed into him, throwing him to the ground.

Everyone ahead of him was running from Voldemort.

He was trampled, ribs cracking under heavy boots, something in his left leg giving a loud click, the bones in his left hand breaking under a centaur's hoof.

He crawled away, shielding his head as much as he could with his arms, moaning in agony as he went.

One of the beautiful marble pillars was smashed in half, the bottom part just about as high up as he could reach. He pulled himself to his feet, gasping in agony.

One look around almost had him drop to the floor.

Voldemort stood, Death Eaters and soldiers behind him, the version of Harry from this world by his side.

They were dealing out violence like Harry had never seen before, like Harry had barely ever imagined was possible.

The rebels were a chaotic mess, everyone pushing each other and stampeding in their terrified need to get away from Voldemort and his followers.

He saw people fall and get crushed, all while the Death Eaters and their Emperor kept attacking the fleeing group.

There was barely anyone still standing against Voldemort.

He hobbled forward, wheezing and gasping for air as he tried to join the fleeing mass.

He still somehow had a hold of his wand, but the thought of attempting to fight didn't even cross his mind.

He was almost too injured to walk, and the furious rage that had driven him since Ginny's death had ebbed away, exposing a core of pure self-preservation.

A spell grazed his shoulder as it flew past him, the skin melting off.

He spun, his knee screaming in protest.

He managed to conjure a physical shield, a block of iron that exploded when it collided with the Killing Curse aimed at him next.

The demented version of him smiled, slashing his wand through the air.

Harry managed to parry the cutter, but he almost fell when he instinctively shifted weight to his damaged leg.

His alternate took advantage of that.

The next curse hit Harry just above the right wrist, the force of the blow knocking him to the ground.

He looked in horror at the bleeding stump of his wrist.

His hand had been severed. It lay there just a few inches from his stump, his wand still clenched firmly in its fingers.

His wrist wasn't bleeding as much as it should have been. The curse, whatever it is, must have done some form of cauterization.

 _'I'm going to die.'_

Oddly, the thought brought him no fear.

If anything, it calmed the raging pit in his belly.

His wand flew from his separated hand, his head automatically turning to watch its path.

His alternate caught it, grinning widely.

"A perfect fit," he said, his voice somehow completely audible, even over the din of the fight. "Almost like it was made for me."

He raised Harry's wand, transferring his own to his left hand.

"Poetic, to kill you with your wand. Or maybe..."

His smile grew, his face taking on an expression Harry hoped he'd never worn himself.

"Maybe I'll keep you," He said, insane laughter bubbling up under his words, "maybe I'll keep you forever. That's it. Incarcerous!"

As the ropes snaked their way around Harry's body, a lot of things happened.

"NO!"

Voldemort's screech cut through every other sound in the building. Harry's alternate twisted his neck, stopping his advance on Harry's prone form.

"RETREAT!" Voldemort shrieked, "RETREAT IMMEDIATELY!"

Then he spun around, Apparating away with a loud crack.

Harry's alternate looked at the empty space where Voldemort had stood, his glee turned to shock in an instant.

Then he looked back at Harry and his eyes widened.

It was only then that Harry felt it, the warm, soft sensation in his chest.

His head feeling almost too heavy to move, he looked down at himself.

He began to chuckle when he saw the misty tendril poking through his torso.

His chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh when his insane alternate Apparated away.

Everything began to shake.

And then he, along with everyone still in the building, was gone.

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	16. Chapter 13—Aftermath

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Chapter 13–Aftermath

"The place where you made your stand never mattered. Only that you were there...and still on your feet."-Stephen King—The Stand

* * *

 _19 May 2028_

 _The Daily Prophet_

 _"PANDEMONIUM STRIKES MINISTRY!"_

 _"Absolute bedlam erupted in the Ministry of Magic yesterday, when just under three hundred Wizards, Witches, Muggles, and assorted Magical Beings suddenly arrived in the London building._

 _In the words of Ministry worker Earnest Tuft (51):_

 _"Everyone was getting ready for the end of the day. The Atrium was already quite full when it happened. The whole building just started to shake, and they were all suddenly just there! Merlin, it was utter chaos!"_

 _The arrivals were all rushed to St Mungo's, prompting the largest triage work our dedicated Healers have had to do since the laughing attack of '14._

 _Unfortunately, details are still incredibly unclear. It has been confirmed that the arrivals consisted of almost three hundred witches, wizards, Muggles, centaurs, Veela, goblins, and Sasquatches._

 _Until such time as we receive more information, we will have to wonder: is this in any way related to the mysterious disappearances of Chief Auror Harry Potter (48) and Chief Unspeakable Hermione Weasley (49) and their respective spouses?_

 _As of now, officials from the Ministry of Magic and St Mungo's have refused comment, promising to clear things up once a few days have passed."_

* * *

 _21 May 2028_

 _From the desk of Acting Chief Unspeakable Saul Croaker_

 _"As you have all no doubt heard, former Chief Unspeakable Weasley has resigned her position, effective immediately._

 _Whether or not I will take her place permanently is still a matter of debate. Regardless of who will take the reins, the following orders are to be carried out immediately:_

 _(1)-All experimentation with device 581 theta is to be halted immediately. Failure to comply will result in criminal charges, and the offending parties will be sacked._

 _(2)-No-one is to enter the Mirror Room without written permission from me. Guards have been stationed there. Anyone attempting to disobey this order will be sacked immediately and will have criminal charges laid against them._

 _(3)-Anyone who has been involved with experimentation or study of inter-dimensional travel is ordered to report to my office at once. We will be working with the Aurors on this one, so please try to act civilized._

 _In addition, you should all be aware that authorization has been granted for use of Fiendfyre on device 581 theta, and for the dismantling and sealing of the Mirror Room._

 _Thank you for your cooperation._

 _Acting Chief Unspeakable Saul Croaker."_

* * *

 _22 May 2028_

 _From the desk of Acting Chief Auror Gawain Robards_

 _"You've all probably heard, but due to former Chief Auror Potter's resignation, I've been pulled out of a cushy retirement. I'm only going to keep this position until the current crisis is over, so I'm not going to be making any fancy speeches, and don't bother trying to suck up to me._

 _Everyone, and I do mean everyone, is pulled off of their current assignments. The hit-wizards can handle everything else, there's nothing going on that's as important as this._

 _We estimate fifty Death Eaters from this other world arrived here. So far, twenty of them have been captured._

 _The Unspeakables claim they'll have a method of tracking the bastards up and running within a week, but until then it's old fashioned Auror work._

 _These people are all to be considered armed and extremely dangerous. Authorization has been granted for the use of lethal force against them._

 _I'm not changing anything up in the Corps. Current squad leaders are to remain in their positions._

 _I want every squad leader to report to me at 13:00. No excuses. All leave is cancelled._

 _Acting Chief Auror Gawain Robards."_

* * *

 _1 June 2028_

 _The Daily Prophet_

 _"REFUGEES FROM ANOTHER WORLD?"_

 _"Minister Shacklebolt's dramatic announcement yesterday regarding the nature of the disturbance in the Ministry on the 18th of May shocked the nation, and indeed, the world._

 _To recap, on the 1st of May a group of wizards and witches from our world, comprised of Former Chief Auror Harry Potter (48) and his wife Ginevra (47), and Former Chief Unspeakable Hermione Weasley (49) and her husband Ronald (49), were involved in a magical accident with an artefact from the Department of Mysteries._

 _This accident, as we were all astounded to learn, actually transferred these war-heroes into an alternate dimension!_

 _(For a greater explanation on the existence of these 'alternate dimensions', please turn to page 12.)_

 _However, all was not well in this other world._

 _As Minister Shacklebolt explained: "We have just begun hearing about the horrifying atrocities carried out in this different reality, but what we have learned so far is enough to turn even the strongest of stomachs."_

 _(For Minister Shacklebolt's full speech, please turn to pages 4 through 6.)_

 _It transpires that although He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was defeated thirty years ago in our world, this was not the case across the entire spectrum of reality. As the Minister said, we do not yet have all the details. So far, what we know is that the dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort was victorious in this other world, going so far as to take control, not merely of Britain or even Europe, but of the entire world._

 _It will still take much time until the entire tale of our intrepid heroes' journey has entirely come to light._

 _It has, however, been confirmed that a battle was fought before Harry Potter and his companions could make their way back home along with their rescued refugees._

 _It has also been confirmed that Harry Potter's wife, famed former Chaser Ginevra Potter (nee Weasley) did not survive this other world. The circumstances surrounding her death are still shrouded in mystery._

 _The Potter and Weasley families have requested privacy in their time of mourning, adding that anyone wishing to honour Ginevra's memory is asked to do so by donating to the newly formed fund for the refugees or to St Mungo's._

 _It is believed that Mrs Potter's death is the spark that led Mr Potter to announce his resignation as Chief Auror. Immediately following his resignation, his sister-in-law Hermione Weasley (nee Granger) announced her own resignation as Chief Unspeakable._

 _Whatever happened in this other world, sources in St Mungo's have told us that our heroes are extremely traumatized, having suffered unknowable torments._

 _Early reports of the goings-on in this other world are trickling through the lips of the Healers, frightening those who hear them._

 _The tales of cruelty and brutality that the refugees tell are frankly almost too despicable to be believed. Murder, torture, and worse are commonplace in this other world._

 _One of the Healers in St Mungo's, speaking on conditions of anonymity, had this to say:_

 _"The amount of extreme and severe injuries we've seen afflicted on the refugees is unimaginable. The stories they tell are unfortunately backed up by the horrific evidence of their bodies' physical states. These are people who have suffered savagery the likes of which I've never even heard of."_

 _(For a more explicit description of the barbarity of this other world, readers above the age of 17 can turn to pages 7 through 10. Be advised, the content is not for the faint of heart.)_

 _"More than anything," Minister Shacklebolt said, "we are reminded to maintain our constant vigilance to the threat of any supremacist groups or movements. We are blessed to be a community where not only have we lived in a period of safety from such threats, but refugees can find safety and security for themselves."_

 _When asked how the community would support this massive influx of newcomers, Minister Shacklebolt responded: "our indomitable spirit of love and care will certainly come through. We have already created a fund to help the refugees get onto their feet."_

 _When the question was raised about whether or not the Muggle refugees would be Obliviated, the Minister had this to say: "No final decision has been reached yet. Whatever we decide, the input of the Muggles themselves will be taken into great account. They have suffered more than too much at the hands of wizards."_

 _Whatever storm the coming days hold, we can only fervently hope that we shall be strong enough to weather it."_

* * *

 _19 May 2028_

 _The Daily Prophet_

 _"CHAOS ERUPTS IN MINISTRY!"_

 _"Absolute pandemonium struck the Ministry of Magic yesterday, when over a hundred Wizards, Witches, Muggles, and assorted Magical Beings suddenly popped into existence in the London building._

 _In the words of Ministry worker Earnest Tuft (51):_

 _"Everyone was getting ready for the end of the day. The Atrium was already quite full when it happened. The whole building just started to shake like nobody's business, and they were all suddenly just there! God, it was utter madness!"_

 _The arrivals were all rushed to St Mungo's, prompting the largest triage work our dedicated Healers have had to do since the plague outbreak of '08._

 _Unfortunately, details are still incredibly unclear. It has been confirmed that the arrivals consisted of just over one hundred witches, wizards, muggles, centaurs, Veela, goblins, and Sasquatches._

 _Until such time as we receive more information, we will have to wonder: is this in any way related to the mysterious disappearances of Auror Task Force leader Harry Potter (48), his wife Chief Unspeakable Hermione Potter (49), and Headmaster of Hogwarts Severus Snape (68)?_

 _As of now, officials from the Ministry of Magic and St Mungo's have refused comment, promising to host a press conference as soon as they have gathered enough information."_

* * *

 _21 May 2028_

 _From the desk of Chief Unspeakable Saul Croaker_

 _"As you have all no doubt heard, former Chief Unspeakable Potter has resigned her position, effective immediately. As such, I have taken her position. The purpose of this note is not to inform you of this change, or even of my future plans. In approximately a week, there will be a meeting for all staff, where those matters and many others will be dealt with. For now, the following orders are to be carried out immediately:_

 _(1)-All experimentation with device 604 alpha is to be halted immediately. Failure to comply will result in criminal charges, and the offending parties will be sacked._

 _(2)-No-one is to enter the Mirror Room without written permission from me. Guards from UX32 have been stationed there. Anyone attempting to disobey this order will be sacked immediately and will have criminal charges laid against them._

 _(3)-Anyone who has been involved with experimentation or study of inter-dimensional travel is ordered to report to my office at once. We will be working with UX32 and the Aurors on this one, so please try to act civilized._

 _In addition, you should all be aware that authorization has been granted for use of Fiendfyre on device 604 Alpha, and for the dismantling and sealing of the Mirror Room._

 _Thank you for your cooperation. Chief Unspeakable Saul Croaker."_

* * *

 _22 May 2028_

 _"If you are not a Task Force member, be advised that continuing to read this memo is an Azkaban worthy offence._

 _To all current staff:_

 _All leave is cancelled as of now. All current missions are suspended as of now._

 _There are approximately thirty Death Eaters from this other world at large in our own. Every one of them is assumed to be at least as well trained as us, and far more experienced._

 _This is not a drill. This is not a joke._

 _Mission briefings in my office at 14:00. Anyone not present will be charged with dereliction of duty._

 _Now is not the time to mourn the previous Head. Now is the time to make sure that those assholes don't kill anyone else._

 _Graham Murdoc, Head of Task Force UX32"_

* * *

 _23 May 2028_

 _"HARRY POTTER SLAIN!"_

 _"It is with great sadness that we report the death of one of Britain's finest heroes of recent years._

 _Harry James Potter, known by all as the vanquisher of Voldemort, was killed in battle last Thursday at the age of 48._

 _Mr Potter became famous at the tender age of 1, when the dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort murdered his parents and attempted to murder Harry as well. For reasons still unknown, the Killing Curse was unsuccessful, rebounding onto Voldemort and destroying his body, albeit not entirely killing him._

 _Branded by the Killing Curse's lightning bolt scar, Harry Potter became Voldemort's fiercest enemy upon the dark wizard's return. After the death of his mentor, Albus Dumbledore, Harry formed a small guerrilla army._

 _Over the next two and a half years, Harry and his handful of followers waged war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, culminating in Voldemort's death._

 _(Pages 4 through 10 are dedicated to Harry Potter's role in the Blood War.)_

 _Dogged by accusations of war crimes and use of the Unforgivables, Harry Potter joined the Auror corps where he was eventually promoted to leader of a task force._

 _The death of Harry Potter coincides with the enigmatic and chaotic arrival of over one hundred witches, wizards, muggles, and magical creatures in the Ministry of Magic's London building last Thursday, as reported by the Daily Prophet._

 _So far, official sources have remained tight-lipped as to the reason for the arrival, leading many to suspect that it was in some way connected to the disappearances of Harry Potter, his wife newly resigned Chief Unspeakable Hermione Potter (49), and Hogwarts Headmaster Severus Snape (68)._

 _Many are theorizing that the trio's disappearance was actually a carefully planned rescue mission, one which unfortunately resulted in Mr Potter's death._

 _Until such time as the Ministry releases an official statement, the truth will remain shrouded in mystery._

 _The Potter family has requested privacy in their time of mourning, and has asked that those wishing to honour the memory of Harry Potter should donate to St Mungo's."_

* * *

 _1 June 2028_

 _The Daily Prophet_

 _"REFUGEES FROM ANOTHER WORLD?"_

 _"(For a complete transcript of Minister Shacklebolt's speech, please turn to pages 4 through 6.)_

 _Minister Shacklebolt's dramatic announcement yesterday regarding the nature of the disturbance in the Ministry on the 18th of May shocked the nation, and indeed, the world._

 _To recap, on the 1st of May the late Harry Potter, his wife former Chief Unspeakable Hermione Potter, and Hogwarts Headmaster Severus Snape were involved in a magical accident involving an artefact from the Department of Mysteries._

 _This accident, as we were all bewildered to learn, actually transferred these war-heroes into an alternate dimension!_

 _(For a greater explanation on the existence of these 'alternate dimensions', please turn to page 12.)_

 _However, all was not well in this other world._

 _As Minister Shacklebolt explained: "We have just begun hearing about the horrifying atrocities carried out in this different reality, but what we have learned so far is enough to sicken even the most hardened of warriors."_

 _It transpires that though He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was defeated thirty years ago in our world, this was not the case across the entire spectrum of reality. As the Minister said, we do not yet have all the details. So far, what we know is that the dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort was victorious in this other world, forming an empire of barbarity that stretched the entire world._

 _It will still take much time until the entire tale of our intrepid heroes' journey has entirely come to light. What is certain, however, is that a cataclysmic battle took place before the refugees could travel to our world, and it was during this battle that Harry Potter was killed._

 _Perhaps as a result of her husband's death, Hermione Potter (nee Granger) has resigned as Chief Unspeakable, appointing Professor Saul Croaker (82) as her successor._

 _Whatever happened in this other world, sources in St Mungo's have told us that Mrs Potter, as well as the rest of the refugees, is extremely traumatized, having suffered unknowable torments._

 _Early reports of the goings-on in this other world are trickling through the lips of the Healers, frightening those who hear them._

 _The tales of cruelty and brutality that the refugees tell are frankly almost too despicable to be believed. Murder, torture, and worse are commonplace in this other world._

 _One of the Healers in St Mungo's, speaking on conditions of anonymity, had this to say:_

 _"The amount of extreme and severe injuries we've seen afflicted on the refugees is unimaginable. The stories they tell are unfortunately backed up by the horrific evidence of their bodies' physical states. These are people who have suffered savagery the likes of which I've never even heard of."_

 _(For a more explicit description of the barbarity of this other world, readers above the age of 17 can turn to pages 7 through 10. Be advised, the content is not for the faint of heart.)_

 _"More than anything," Minister Shacklebolt said, "we are reminded to maintain our constant vigilance to the threat of any supremacist groups or movements. We are blessed to be a community where not only have we lived in a period of safety from such threats, but refugees can find safety and security for themselves."_

 _After giving assurances that the device in question has been destroyed, Minister Shacklebolt concluded with a request from all capable citizens to donate to a newly formed fund to assist these refugees, and to do whatever possible to assist them in their acclimatization to a world of peace."_

* * *

 _21 May 2028_

 _From the quill of Horatio West, Chief Unspeakable._

 _"As I mentioned in my promotion acceptance speech yesterday, we have a lot of work to do._

 _Until such time as we have managed to train replacements for all our fallen comrades, we're going to have to make do with foreigners. Unfortunately, we won't be able to borrow people from the other Departments for too long, not without leaving them understaffed. The rotation is still in the works, but it's looking like shifts of foreign Unspeakables will be joining us for three weeks to a month at a time._

 _Biggest order of business right now is repairing the damage the battle caused. The Mirror Room was absolutely wrecked, and the Space Room was as well._

 _The Emperor has given the following orders:_

 _We are to continue our studies in the Space Room the moment it has been repaired._

 _We are to continue our experimentation with the Fidelius as soon as possible._

 _We are to continue our attempts at creating the listening devices._

 _Once the Mirror Room is repaired, we are to continue our theoretical studies therein. Anyone attempting any form of practical experimentation without the Emperor's explicit permission will be deemed a traitor and executed._

 _The Emperor has taken the artefact into his possession. Any attempts to replicate it will be deemed traitorous and the offending party will be executed._

 _Chief Unspeakable Hector West."_

* * *

 _25 May 2028_

 _"TERRORIST THREAT NEUTRALIZED!"_

 _"It was to a cheering crowd that the Emperor yesterday announced the total eradication of the terrorist threat that has plagued the Empire for the last thirty years._

 _(For a complete transcript of the Emperor's speech, turn to pages 2 through 4.)_

 _As has been reported, a major terrorist attack took place last week at the Department of Mysteries' London office._

 _"The terrorists had plans to take control of the Department of Mysteries," the Emperor said, "because they believed we have a catastrophic weapon hidden away there. From our interrogations, it has come out that they planned on carrying out a series of attacks with this imaginary weapon, in the hopes of bending our proud will to their savage desires."_

 _(For a partial list of terrorist attacks on civilian locations see pages 5 through 7.)_

 _Luckily, our security forces were on high alert._

 _"The terrorist group attacked with their entire fighting force," Director Potter explained during the press conference after the Emperor's address, "they honestly believed that if they got hold of this so-called weapon, they would somehow be able to defeat the Empire."_

 _When asked how the terrorists could possibly have believed something so preposterous, Director Potter grinned and replied: "Let's just say they were basing their plans off of information from a source that perhaps they shouldn't have trusted."_

 _The terrorists attacked the Department of Mysteries, and a battle of the largest scale since the unification of Africa took place._

 _Large in number though the terrorists were, our men's better training, powerful will, and greater strength of heart pulled through._

 _By the end of the battle, the only fighters left standing were our security forces, guided by the intimidating figure of the Emperor._

 _"The terrorists have been utterly destroyed," the Emperor said in his speech, "their fighting force crushed, the captives leading us right to their lair. No longer must we fear their senseless violence. No longer must we worry for our safety."_

 _Wonderful though our victory is, it came at a heavy price._

 _Nearly one hundred of our soldiers, Death Eaters, and Unspeakables laid down their lives to protect us._

 _"They died as heroes," the Emperor said, "and they will be forever remembered as such."_

 _Listed among the noble dead is Scorpius Malfoy, youngest son of Draco and Astoria Malfoy of the Malfoy Bank._

 _His death has exposed a terrible level of depravity, a despicable series of actions by the terrorists._

 _It appears that the terrorists were not content to merely take their operatives from the wretched scum who believe their lies, but were actively forcing the children of some of our most illustrious families to serve them._

 _"Their exact methods are still unclear," Director Potter said, "but we know they were using a modified version of the Imperius, and they had the assistance of a Phoenix."_

 _The Phoenix in question, readers should be aware, was once a companion to the muggle loving founder of this terrorist group, Albus Dumbledore._

 _"We believe that he experimented on the Phoenix," the Director said, "enhancing its natural abilities with the Mind Arts."_

 _Using their perverse methods, the terrorists were controlling the actions of many._

 _Scorpius Malfoy was one of their targets, as was Director Potter's eldest daughter Bellona._

 _"Scorpius, he managed to fight it off," Director Potter said, "I was there. It was damaging him to do so, but he fought it off long enough to explain what was going on and to warn me about Bella. Then it just...killed him. There was some sort of Unbreakable Vow aspect to it, making it so he couldn't talk about it."_

 _Director Potter's daughter, thankfully, was rescued._

 _"It wasn't without a cost," The Director said, "removing their compulsion, it acted like a memory charm. We're trying to see if some of the lost memories can be restored, but no luck so far."_

 _The nation grieves with the Malfoy and Potter families._

 _"It is a comfort," Draco Malfoy said, wearing his son's Order of Merlin and speaking to reporters after the press conference, "to know that Scorpius' sacrifice was not in vain. That his death gave us a glimpse into the savagery of these terrorists and allowed us to identify the others affected. Had he not given his warning, the tide of battle may very well have turned against us."_

 _So far, a further twelve afflicted persons have been identified and are in St Mungo's for treatment._

 _We are certain that in the days to come, many tales of heroism will come out. These will certainly help us heal from the grievous wounds the terrorists have inflicted upon us._

 _"With the terrorist threat behind us," the Emperor concluded his speech, "we can rise to the new dawn of complete peace and freedom for all!""_

 **AS ALWAYS: REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW**


	17. Epilogue—One Year Later

**AN: I OWN NOTHING**

 **BETAD BY GECKOSHAN**

 **PLEASE REVIEW/P.M. ME**

 **ENJOY!**

Epilogue-One Year Later

"And will I tell you that these three lived happily ever after? I will not, for no one ever does. But there was happiness. And they did live."-Stephen King—The Dark Tower

* * *

 _14 May 2029_

 _Harry Potter, Former Chief Auror_

Harry approached the cemetery gates slowly, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, the bunch of flowers shaking in his hand.

The others waited behind him.

They'd be going to the Burrow for a big meal soon, one of love and laughter and fond memories of Ginny.

For now, he and his children had a visit to pay.

The gate creaked as he opened it, the sound startling a few birds into the air with indignant squeaks.

They walked in silence, the unseasonable frostiness of the day suiting Harry's mood perfectly.

He stopped a few rows away from her grave.

"Do you mind if I have a few minutes?" He asked hoarsely.

"Sure, dad," James said, clasping his shoulder as the others murmured their assent.

"Thanks," he muttered, not quite able to face any of them.

He'd let them down, just as much as he'd let her down. He should have brought her back safely, should have come back unharmed himself.

He knew that his children missed the old him, the Harry who hadn't flinched at the sound of Apparition, who hadn't woken up screaming in the middle of the night, who'd been strong and brave.

That Harry had died in the other world.

He walked to her grave, barely noticing the new grass springing up under his feet.

It was a peaceful place, the Godric's Hollow cemetery.

He'd wanted her to be buried in Ottery St. Catchpole, in the old graveyard where generations of Weasleys had been laid to rest.

Molly and Arthur refused to hear of it.

So she was here, laid to rest next to his parents and the small plaque memorializing Sirius.

He placed the flowers on her grave, straightening up and looking at the tombstone.

"The greatest of these is love," he whispered, running his finger along the engraved quote below her name and dates of birth and death.

The words blurred before him as tears filled his eyes.

He shoved his trembling hands into his pockets and stood up straighter, heaving a great sigh.

"Sorry I haven't visited in so long," he said, his words ringing out in the cool air.

It had been almost three months since his last visit. At first, he'd been visiting every day, spending hours beside the grave.

Then his kids had ratted him out to Hermione and Ron.

The ensuing conversation had not been a pleasant one, but it had been one Harry had needed to have.

"Not too much has changed since last time," he said, "Ron's doing better, almost like his old self. Hermione says he has nightmares, but we all do."

That was certainly true. Albus had actually moved back into the house after the first few, if only so that Lily wouldn't be alone when there was sudden screaming in the middle of the night.

"The other Hagrid took McGonagall up on the offer, so starting next year he and our Hagrid will be splitting their classes. The other Luna, she's still finding it tough. Rolf and the kids have settled in, but she still is a little…lost. Luna says that she doesn't want to accept that good things are actually happening to her. But I think she'll do all right. She's better every time I see her."

Luna had reacted the best out of everyone to the existence of an alternate version of her, her husband, and their children. She and Rolf had actually taken their alternates into their home and supported them for the entire year while they adjusted.

Most people weren't able to do that. They just couldn't handle it, having war-hardened, frightened versions of themselves around.

The wizarding community had been welcoming, but it still was simply too disturbing for the average person to spend much time with their alternates.

The muggles had it easier. They'd mostly chosen not to be Obliviated and were given a level of respect most wizards would usually only accord to magical folk.

By now, very few of them were still in St Mungo's full time. It was still difficult for them, of course, but they could often be found around town.

They were recovering, growing to see themselves as people again, adjusting to life in a world that wasn't hell.

Every so often, he'd bump into one of them. They'd invariably thank him for helping to rescue them.

"The kids are great. Cindy's really looking like she's expecting now. It's going to be tough, not having you there for that,"

He sighed, tears filling his eyes again.

"But I'll get through it somehow. I told you that Albus moved back in. Well, he asked me how I would feel if he moved back in with Scorpius. Told him I'd be thrilled. And Lily, she's still floundering a bit. Your-what happened, it hit her the hardest. But she's getting better too. She's getting there."

He glanced at his watch, the conversations from behind him filling his ears.

"And me. I'm doing-I'm getting along. Finding stuff to fill up my time with. Been helping your dad with his tinkering. It's actually improved my hand a lot. Can bend the fingers properly now. And I've been doing some desk work for the Aurors. Nothing too active, just helping with the paperwork. McGonagall asked me about helping with the Defence class, but I just don't think I'm ready for that yet. Maybe one day, but not yet. I tried to get back into the duelling. Hermione actually badgered me into giving it a shot."

He shook his head ruefully.

' _Can't keep them waiting too much longer.'_

"Couldn't do it. Froze up when the fight started. Johnson, the Mind Healer, he reckons I just need more time. He might be right. Until then, I'll just keep trying. I've been keeping up with the flying. It helps, just being up there. All the thoughts vanish."

He heard his children's voices grow louder as they walked forward.

"I'm doing better. I really am. It makes me feel guilty sometimes, that life's perking up again but you aren't here with me. So I just think about what you would say if you were."

Footsteps stopped a few meters behind him, a whispered conversation beginning.

"I love you, Ginny. I miss you. And I guess I always will. But life...life doesn't stop. And it's taken me till now to really start to realize that. Life goes on, as much I might wish it doesn't."

He straightened up, rubbing his prosthetic fingers across the curved edge of the tombstone and wiping his eyes with his other hand.

"I love you," he whispered.

He turned around to face his children.

Luna had joined them while he was talking to Ginny. The Luna from the alternate dimension.

Even with just a cursory glance he could tell which Luna it was. Her face was far more lined than the Luna from this world, her hair had grey streaks, and her eyes were more focused.

She nodded at him before walking past him, heading straight for Ginny's grave.

"None of us felt right about asking her to leave," Albus whispered.

"It's fine," Harry said back, pitching his voice as low as Albus had.

He paused, cocking his head as he caught a snatch of Luna's words.

"It's almost enough to make me think of Nargles again," she was saying. "Enough to feel that spark of hope."

He often lay up late at night, wondering what was going on in the other worlds. Wondering how the other Hermione was doing, if she and Snape and the rest of the surviving rebels had arrived in their world safety.

He usually managed not to think about the nightmare world he'd visited, but he couldn't stop himself from wondering if the other travellers and rebels were ok.

It niggled at him, itching at his mind, the questions that he knew he'd never get answers for burrowing into his brain and all but driving him mad.

Right then, however, standing a few meters from his wife's grave, he felt at peace, certain that the other travellers were doing as well as they could.

A small smile crossed his face.

' _Somehow, things will be ok.'_

* * *

 _Hermione Potter, Former Chief Unspeakable._

"So?" Tonks demanded, "you gonna take them up on it?"

Hermione leaned back in the armchair, taking a deep sip of the wine.

It was just her and Tonks. Tonks' boyfriend had been convinced to go to the pub with his mates, leaving the two of them with the house.

"Yeah," Hermione said, "I think I am. They said I have until next week to give an official response, but I think I'm going to do it."

"Good for you! Hermione Potter, Professor of Magical Theory. Has a nice ring to it."

It certainly was an appealing position.

When James had heard that Ilvermoney was looking to hire an additional Professor of Magical Theory to keep up with the growing demand, he'd had a word with the Headmistress.

Hermione's reputation as Chief Unspeakable had preceded her, and the Headmistress had Fire-called her that same day.

"Yeah. And Lily's still set on working with the film crews, so she's planning on coming to the States as well."

"So you'll have them with you," Tonks said.

"Yeah. And more than that, I'll be out of England. Just too many memories here."

"That's for sure," Tonks muttered, sipping at her wine again.

In truth, it wasn't just the memories. It was the pitying looks she got in the street, the way everyone spoke more gently when she was around.

Above all, it was seeing the refugees around town, every sight of them throwing her mind back into that terrible place.

It was seeing Scorpius Malfoy walk the streets bold as brass, with Fawkes perched on his shoulder more often than not.

The refugees had adjusted well, over the last year. There'd been all types of initiatives for them after their six months in St Mungo's. Most of them had been set up with jobs, ranging from Auror work to simple storekeepers' assistants in Diagon Alley. Even the Muggles had been given jobs in the wizarding world, after Obliviation had been ruled out.

Of course, she was one of the few people who knew that the muggles were being carefully watched. Much as she hated it, it was necessary. They were people with a motive to despise the wizarding world, people with the ability to bring the Statute of Secrecy crashing down.

They were treated with nothing other than compassion and respect, they were being closely observed and were none the wiser, and they, like all of the refugees, were happy.

She couldn't begrudge them their recovery, couldn't hate them for their ability to put their pasts behind them.

Sometimes, though, she wished that she could.

"You're not gonna forget about all of us back here," Tonks asked, a hint of anxiety lurking below her voice, "will you?"

"Do you really think you'd let me? Or that Luna or Molly would? Hell, my parents will still be here, so I'll definitely be coming to visit quite often."

Tonks leaned over suddenly, seizing Hermione in a tight hug.

"I'll miss you. But it's the right move. It'll be good for you."

Hermione smiled tearily, waving Tonks' hair out of her face.

"Thanks," she said, "and I hope you're right."

"Of course I am! Hermione, you've been doing magnificently here, and it can only be better there! A new start to another chapter in your life."

They separated, leaning back into their chairs.

"Tell me," Hermione said, scratching her fingernails against each other, "do you-do you believe in soulmates?"

"Oh, Hermione," Tonks said softly, full of compassion, "you'll find someone when you're ready."

"No-I mean-I think-"

"Owen and I have been very happy the last few years," Tonks said, "And you know that there were other guys before him. But none of them were the same as Remus."

Hermione nodded, looking deep into her friend's eyes.

"I think that-that there is someone special for everyone," Tonks said, "where you can have something with them you'll never find with anyone else. There are plenty of people you can be happy with, plenty of people who you can stave off loneliness with. But it's not the same. Took me nearly a decade to accept it, but that's what I think."

"I just-I'm not even thinking about dating now,"

"Good," Tonks interrupted with a nod.

"But," Hermione continued, "I just can't help but wonder what's going to be in the future. If it-if it will feel like I'm betraying him-"

"It will," Tonks said, "and that's ok. I only started another relationship almost ten years after Remus died, and it was still tough. But you'll realize, it'll come to you, that he would have wanted you to be happy."

"It can never be the same again," Hermione whispered sadly, refilling her glass.

"No. It can't be the same. You just need to live as best you can. You've heard all the clichés. Cherish the memories and all that shit. Well, those things help. And sometimes, getting drunk with someone who cares about you helps too."

Tonks raised her glass, clinking it gently against Hermione's.

"Don't be in a rush to move on. And don't think that you have to. You never have to do anything with your life that you don't want to."

"I know,"

"Good," Tonks said, "That's good."

They subsided into silence, just enjoying each other's company for a bit.

"You told Snape yet?"

Hermione shook her head, swallowing the wine. "Not yet. He knows I got the offer, but I haven't spoken to him since I made up my mind."

"You should," Tonks said, "you're like his only friend."

"Not the only one. Just the closest."

In truth, it wasn't so far off to say that she was Snape's only friend. After their return back to this world, he'd regressed, gaining back many of the caustic and vile mannerisms he'd tried so hard to get past.

She couldn't blame him. She knew that what he'd done in that other world, necessary as it was, kept him up at nights, burning him up with guilt.

Over the last year, he'd driven away most of the friends he'd accumulated over the last thirty years with his acid tongue, leaving only her, McGonagall, and one or two others still talking to him.

But he had been doing better, the last two months or so. He'd started guarding his tongue again, keeping his insults and wrathful comments to himself.

Some of the people he'd driven away had begun approaching him again, cautiously testing the waters.

It wasn't the same as before they went to that terrible place, but it was good enough that she didn't have to feel guilty about him.

"Has he ever spoke to you about it? What he did?"

"Just the once. Said that he was glad that the sister went to the other world because he didn't think he'd be able to face her."

Silence descended upon the two again.

It had been a difficult year, in more ways than Hermione could possibly describe.

But for the first time since her return, Hermione was feeling hopeful for the future.

"It'll be great in America," Tonks said, "You'll see. A great new beginning."

"Thanks," Hermione said, a smile spreading across her face, "I really hope so."

* * *

 _Harry Potter, Director of the Death Eaters_

The sounds of the children playing wafted through the air to where he and Draco were sitting.

Bella jumped up from the long grass, making little Harry giggle and fall onto his backside.

Harry's first grandchild had been born the year before, only a month after the battle at the Department of Mysteries. In fact, he'd been born on Harry's birthday, leading Damien and Samantha to name him after Harry.

Whenever the family was all together, Bella could be found spending most, if not all, of her time with him.

It wasn't surprising, really. Not after the Dark Lord's Memory Charm had reverted Bella's mind back to that of an infant.

Much of Harry's time over the last year had been spent with Daphne, raising Bella again.

She was growing up much faster than she had the first time. Probably because she'd already been through all of the physical development once before, and now it was just a matter of teaching her how to function again.

They figured that she was at about the mental age of a seven-year-old. A normal seven-year-old. No lessons on torture, murder, or fighting for her.

Not this time.

Harry took a deep drag from the cigar, relishing the harshness of the smoke against his throat.

"How's she been?" Draco asked, expelling a great cloud of smoke and sipping at his brandy.

"Bella? She's been good. Better than good. Like a normal kid. At least, she's been good since we got her toilet trained again."

"How've the others been with her?"

Harry sighed.

"They're trying. But it's tough. We've seen Agrippa and Livia making some mean comments, or giving her a flick upside the head. But on a whole, they're doing ok."

"Good to hear," Draco murmured, "very good to hear."

"How about yours? You didn't tell Helena the truth, did you?"

Draco shook his head, absentmindedly fingering the Order of Merlin pinned to his robe.

"No point. Let her keep thinking that her brother was a hero. Her and Lucius both. It's better that way. Bloody hell, that's what I make myself think half of the time. Better that way."

"Yeah," Harry said, "Yeah. Didn't work with Hector and Damien, but Livia and Agrippa don't know the truth either. We decided we're not going to tell them. Not now, not ever. They don't need to know."

"They do know the truth," Draco said thoughtfully, "the truth as the Dark Lord Himself said it."

Harry smiled, watching the children playing. They were just out of range of his hearing, but he could see his grandson laughing at something Bella had said.

"Coming up on a full year with no major activity," he said, "been hellishly boring, to tell the truth."

"Boring's better," Draco said fervently, his eyes rolling around, "far better than the alternatives."

"I guess so. It's just strange. Adjusting to real peace."

"What have you actually been doing?"

"Mostly just monitoring. That, and helping the Aurors and Hit-Wizards. Crime hasn't exactly been eradicated, even if terrorism has."

"You prepared your speech for the anniversary yet?"

"Mostly," Harry answered, "what about you?"

"Pretty much," Draco said, "just got to practice now."

"Lots of references to bravery," Harry said, swirling the brandy around in his glass, "bravery and sacrifice and love and honour and all that nonsense."

"Daphne's coming," Draco said, jerking his hand back towards the house.

"Harry, Draco," Daphne called, "everyone's arrived. Bring the kids in, please."

"Coming," Harry called back, twisting around to face her, "we'll be there in a minute."

"Great."

As he turned his head back, just for an instant, he caught a fleeting glimpse of Bella's face.

She was looking right at him, a sneering expression of pure loathing flitting across her face.

Just for a fraction of a second, and then it was gone.

' _Must have been a trick of the light,'_ he thought, examining her face and trying to banish his nerves.

She was looking normal again, her face returned to its usual slightly blank innocent happiness.

As he watched, she whispered something to little Harry, both of them bursting out in laughter.

' _Yeah,'_ he thought, his unease vanishing as he stood up, ' _just a trick of the light.'_

"Come on, Bella, Harry. They want us inside."

"Ok, dad," Bella called, standing up and helping little Harry to his feet, "we're coming."

He smiled as they walked past him hand in hand, his worries gone.

For all his complaints about boredom, the last year had been one of the best of his life.

With Bella doing so well it was looking like the next year, when they would start teaching her magic again, would only be better.

With the death or evacuation of all of the terrorists, unparalleled peace had dawned upon the Empire, giving the Dark Lord, and by extension Harry, even more power and respect than they'd had up to that point.

He was immortal, he was rich and powerful, and his issues with his daughter had been solved.

All was well.

 **FIRSTLY, ENORMOUS THANKS GO TO MY INCREDIBLE BETA, GECKOSHAN. THIS STORY WOULD HAVE COME OUT FAR WORSE IF NOT FOR THEIR DEDICATED EFFORTS. MOST OF THE COMPLEMENTS FOR IMPROVEMENTS IN MY WRITING SHOULD BE AIMED AT THEM.**

 **SECONDLY, TO ALL OF YOU WHO READ THIS TALE, AND PARTICULARLY THOSE WHO GAVE YOUR THOUGHTS ON IT. SEEING THE VIEW COUNTER RISE IS AN INCREDIBLE PUSH TO KEEP WRITING, AND REVIEWS ONLY MORE SO.**

 **UNTIL NEXT TIME.**


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